AN: What? Two episodes in two weeks? What possessed me, you ask?
Well, I answer, the desire to escape my not-going well science.
(I was trying to let my science breathe, as Mac used to say during his MIT days…when he wanted to spend more time with Frankie. Instead of someone gorgeous, smarter than me and way out of my league, I've got this fic and you guys! :P)
POWER STATION
LA
'Welcome to the party, pal! Have a knuckle sandwich!' There was a meaty thwack, a loud grunt of pain, and then the thump of someone falling to the floor. 'Oh, you want one too? No need to worry, man, got plenty to go around…'
Jack felled another one of the bad guys he was holding off, as Mac examined the device in front of him, which was tied in to LA's power grid and capable of knocking the whole thing out when it went off, which was in fifty-four seconds. Blocking out the sounds of Jack fighting (which, because it was Jack, were very loud and full of Bruce Willis-inspired quips), he focused, tracing the wires, carefully considering.
Mac registered the sound of a gunshot ten feet away from him, accompanied by Jack shouting at the guy he'd just shot who assumedly had been about to shoot him or pounce on him.
(He trusted Jack to watch his back. Trusted him absolutely.)
'Hey, you just can't walk up and attack a guy, you have to say something cool first!'
He found the right wire, and cut it with his Swiss Army knife, letting out a sigh of relief as the lights blinked, then went out, along with the timer, with ten seconds left on the clock.
His eyes were caught on the battery that powered the disabled device (ironically) and the cut wire, and an idea blossomed in his brain, as they so often did.
(Pretty much constantly did, actually.)
Mac grabbed the battery and cut a couple more wires, glancing quickly over at Jack, who'd just taken down yet another bad guy with a loud cry.
'Yippee kay yay!'
Thirty seconds later, Mac's DIY Taser-disc was done, and he ducked out from behind cover and tossed it at the very last bad guy whom Jack was locked in combat with…at the very second that the man (who seemed more skilled than his colleagues) stabbed Jack in the leg, causing him to arch in pain and cry out.
'Jack!' As the bad guy dropped to his knees, convulsing, dropping the bloody switchblade he had been clutching in his right hand, Mac rushed over to his partner, pulling out his phone as he ran and speed-dialling Riley. 'We need ex-fil, stat.' He crouched by the older man, whose face was still contorted in pain as he put pressure on the wound. After a moment of staring at the wound, Mac pulled out his belt to turn into a tourniquet. 'Jack's been stabbed, he's going to be okay, but we need to get back to the infirmary ASAP…'
He focused on field-dressing Jack's injury, pushing aside the guilt gnawing at him.
He'd deal with that later.
INFIRMARY
PHOENIX FOUNDATION HEADQUARTERS
SOMEWHERE IN LA
Mac rested his elbows on his knees, tapping his right foot on the infirmary floor, sitting outside Jack's 'room'.
He absent-mindedly reached out and picked up yet another paperclip from the kidney dish full of them next to him, just as Beth stepped out of Jack's room.
'You can come in now, Mac, there's no longer a risk of seeing more of him than you'd like.'
She had one of those finding-light-in-the-darkness smiles on her face, somehow wry and soft and sympathetic, and he smiled back at her.
'Thanks, Beth.' His expression grew more wry. 'Hope they're giving you hazard pay for having to see his butt.'
She shook her head, that little smile still on her face.
'I have seen a lot of backsides. There's nothing traumatizing about anyone's.' She gestured with her head towards the dish of paperclips beside him. 'Let me know if you'd like more.'
He smiled a little wider and nodded gratefully, and she walked off towards her office, updating Jack's records on her tablet as she went, as Mac ducked behind the curtain into his partner's room, just as Riley (who'd stopped by briefly to see Jack earlier, but had had to go help Matty wrap up the mission) and Bozer approached the infirmary doors.
When Mac stepped inside, Jack was holding up a corner of his hospital gown and making a face.
'Seriously, this ain't doing anything for me. The cut, the colour…' He pointed at his partner. 'I get why you hate these things, man.'
Mac rolled his eyes.
'Yeah, the unflattering nature of hospital gowns is not why I dislike them, Jack.' He sat down on the chair next to the bed. 'But look on the bright side; at least you're not bleeding everywhere anymore.'
A note of guilt bled into his voice, which Jack noted, his expression softening a little, before he nodded sagely.
'Yeah, I like my blood on the inside, thanks.'
Mac gave a weak chuckle that sounded rather forced, then met Jack's eyes, held his gaze for a moment.
'I'm so sorry, Jack. I should have-'
Jack held up a hand and cut him off, loudly.
'Woah, woah, hold it there, brother. This…' He gestured to his cleaned, stitched and bandaged wound, looking very firmly at the younger man. '…this ain't your fault. Hazard of the job.'
After a moment and a sigh, Mac nodded, just as Bozer and Riley stuck their heads around the curtain.
Bozer gestured to the bag of O-negative that was being pumped into Jack, then grinned and pointed at him.
'Once you get out of here, I'm gonna make you a nice, juicy steak.' He gave a little smirk. 'Even Dr Beth's gotta approve!'
Riley grabbed another chair, pulled it up to the side of Jack's bed, and sat down.
'Isn't there more iron in spinach?'
The paperclip in Mac's hands started to take the shape of a heme molecule.
'Yes, marginally, but the iron in meat is in a more bioavailable form, so red meat is a better iron source…'
Fifteen minutes later, Mac and Riley's phones beeped, and they pulled them out and glanced at the caller ID.
'Matty?'
The two of them nodded in response to Jack's question, as they made to get up, with slight hesitation, both glancing at the older man, who grinned, something very soft and fond in his eyes, then pointed at the door.
'You two better not keep Matty the Hun waiting. I'll be waiting right here for you when you get back.'
Bozer, too, smiled at Riley and his BFF, reaching out to clap Jack on the shoulder.
'I'll keep the old man company.'
'I'm not old!'
Completely in sync, Mac, Riley and Bozer smirked, exchanged a glance and retorted.
'Yes you are!'
When Mac and Riley entered the war room, it was already occupied by a blonde, blue-eyed man of about thirty, wearing jeans, a tight-fitting white T-shirt and a black leather jacket, lounging in one of the armchairs with his feet up on the coffee table, solving a seven-by-seven Rubik's cube with ease.
They exchanged a glance.
(They recognized him, of course. Agent Alex Lucas, former Air Force fighter pilot and CalTech graduate, was normally one of the five members of the Edwards team – led by Nick Edwards, who loved weird combinations of things on toast, like Jack – who were often tapped for long-term undercover work– by Phoenix standards; their missions were usually quick, due to some imminent deadline, often literally.)
(Currently, the rest of the Edwards team – Nick, the leader, Rowena Ho, his second-in-command, former Special Forces sniper, tiny and utterly terrifying, May Torres, undercover expert, master of disguise, rumoured to have graduated from Julliard, and Carter Justin, lifelong white-hat, formerly of the FBI - were on an op in Russia, but Alex had been injured and his cover rumbled two weeks ago, so he had been sent back to LA.)
(Clearly he was now recovered, albeit at loose ends.)
It looked like Mac was getting a temporary partner.
As the two blondes exchanged greetings, Alex (who was clearly well aware of Mac's reputation) tossed the younger man the Rubik's cube, and Mac plopped himself down in the other armchair, also propping his feet up on the coffee table. As he began to solve the cube with ease, Riley shook her head and gave a wry smirk.
Jack was really going to go to town on this.
She could already hear him.
He was such a drama queen.
'…Sixteen hours ago, the star witness in the DEA's case against the leadership of the La Plata cartel disappeared right under their noses.' Matty tapped the screen, and a picture of a man with dark hair, aged about thirty-five, appeared on the screen. 'Their case hinges on Martijn de Bruen's testimony. Without it, the cartel's five key lieutenants walk.' She pursed her lips. 'Unfortunately, the DEA have no idea whether Martijn was kidnapped or he ran away of his own free will.' Testifying against a drug cartel could be deadly. It wasn't unlikely that Martijn had decided he couldn't do it. 'And that's where we come in.' Matty turned back to face Alex (who was still solving his Rubik's cube without looking), Mac (who was shaping a paperclip into a Rubik's cube without looking) and Riley (who gestured subtly at the two blondes, raising an eyebrow at Matty). 'Riley, you're going to go digging through cyberspace for everything the DEA missed. Mac, Alex, you're going to either rescue Martijn or find him and talk him into testifying.'
The two of them combined were five IQ points smarter than two Einsteins.
Mac had a weird knack for inspiring speeches. Alex was ludicrously charming.
Matty was sure that between the two of them, they'd get Martijn back on the witness stand, one way or the other.
As Alex and Mac drove down to San Diego (Alex was driving, as per Matty's orders), Riley set up shop in the war room, filling in the gaps that the DEA's intel was, honestly, full of.
Apparently, they were very thorough when it came to their paperwork, but not really so when it came to digging through the dark web.
MARTIJN'S RESIDENCE
(WELL, THE WITNESS PROTECTION PROGRAM HOUSE HE WAS LIVING IN ANYWAY)
(IT DOESN'T REALLY SEEM LIKE HOME)
SAN DIEGO
Mac and Alex didn't find anything suspicious at Martijn's house.
There were no signs of breaking-and-entering, no signs of violence, and no signs of hurried vacating of the premises by the man either.
Then again, the La Plata cartel weren't exactly amateurs, and Martijn himself hadn't exactly lived his whole life on the right side of the law (which was how he'd wound up being the key witness in the first place).
They did, however, find a half-consumed packet of cold-and-flu medication, several empty cans that'd once held chicken soup, an empty tissue box, one more near-empty one and a huge number of tissues in the trash, as well as two bottles of nasal decongestant spray.
As Mac examined the trash while Alex searched for any hidden compartments and the like by tapping on the wall and all the furniture, the former's phone rang, and he quickly stripped off the disposable gloves he was wearing and picked up.
'Hey, Riley. I'm putting you on speaker.'
'La Plata were definitely planning to kidnap Martijn. I'm putting together a timeline, but there's no chatter on whether they've succeeded or not, they've gone dark.'
Which meant that it was still entirely possible that Martjin had run away himself. (The DEA agents who'd been in charge of his case had said that it seemed like he was having doubts.) Or, perhaps, he'd run away and then gotten himself kidnapped.
Mac and Alex exchanged a glance, Mac speaking.
'We'll work out when Martijn left here and call you back, Riley.'
The hacker had worked with Mac for long enough to know that tone of voice.
Mac didn't have any idea how he was going to work that out yet, but he was going to do it.
Somehow.
She hung up, and there was silence in the room for two seconds, as Mac and Alex surveyed the room, brains ticking into overdrive, startlingly-similar thinking faces on.
Then, Mac reached out and picked up a used tissue with the tweezers of his Swiss Army knife, just as Alex glanced over at the mound of probably-biohazardous paper. He clearly knew exactly what Mac was thinking of, because he gestured at the tissue mountain.
'If it was solely viral, we're in trouble.'
Gingerly, keeping the tissue at arm's length, Mac pried it apart to reveal a very unpleasant yellow-green lump.
'I'm pretty sure he had a nasty case of sinusitis, so there's at least some bacteria in there.'
Alex let out a low whistle, even as he nodded in agreement.
'I'm voting for kidnapping; no-one's gonna try and leave the house of their own free will while sneezing out that.' He pulled out his phone, and started searching something up. 'You handle supplies, I'll get us some equipment?'
Mac smiled and jumped up, bagging a selection of tissues from various depths in the trashcan in carefully-labelled plastic sandwich bags, before grabbing a box of unflavoured Jell-O from the pantry, as well as a bag of sugar.
He did miss Jack's complaining and rambling, pointless stories (they really did help him think, and they were oddly soothing, like white noise), but he admitted it was nice to work with someone who spoke his language.
A LOCAL HIGH SCHOOL
SAN DIEGO
(YES, THEY ARE ABOUT TO WHAT YOU THINK THEY'RE GONNA DO)
'…You guys want me to loop the cameras at a random high school for the reason I'm thinking of, don't you?'
Riley's voice was exasperated, almost long-suffering, though Mac could definitely hear a note of fondness in there too. A sheepish little smirk grew on his face.
(They could disrupt the cameras by modifying the cable-receiving dish on the front lawn of a house four doors down from the school, but it was easier and less suspicious to have Riley loop the cameras.)
(Besides, Mac would feel kind of bad for stealing someone's cable dish again.)
(The guy he'd 'borrowed' one from last time had not been happy at having his game disrupted)
'Uh…yeah.'
Alex's smirk, on the other hand, was unapologetic, even smug.
'Well, I've always been a bit of a bad boy, Miss Davis.'
Mac could hear Riley's eye-roll at the light, meaningless flirtation in his words when she responded teasingly.
'Don't get caught, you two. Matty won't be happy if she has to bail you out for this.'
'I'm always careful.' Mac's smirk widened a bit when he said that. Riley snorted. She supposed in Mac's mind, he might be being careful (with his mind, he could calculate risks and choose the least-risky option nearly-instantly, after all), but it certainly didn't look that way from the outside. 'Thanks, Riles.'
Alex finished solving his Rubik's cube yet again, and tossed the puzzle into his other hand, before pocketing it, leaning against the fence.
'Last time I was caught breaking into a school, I was eleven. Statistically, it's not gonna happen.' They ended the call, then the two blonde agents glanced at each other, before looking through the wire fence at the school buildings…and at the tall, three-storey-high tree that grew right beside the science wing. 'This really takes me back to my junior high days.'
Alex grinned in a way that was almost a smirk as he shook his head and spoke. Mac, too, repeated the action, without even having to look at his temporary partner.
'Oh, yeah…'
Then, without another word, they scaled the fence and headed for the tree.
Balancing on a sturdy tree branch, Mac managed to work the window open and slid his hand through to open it as far as it would go from the inside.
Carefully, he pocketed his Swiss Army knife again, and slipped inside the window, followed by Alex.
The two of them took a second to glance around the high school science lab (which looked oddly similar to Mr Ericson's classroom back in Mission City, but Mac supposed there was a degree of universality to school science classrooms), allowing themselves a moment of fond reminiscence, before heading over to the nearest bench.
As Alex unpacked their supplies, putting the bag of sugar, the Jell-O and the labelled bags of tissues onto the bench, Mac grabbed a lighter from a drawer and lit the Bunsen burner, before rummaging around the cupboards for some petri dishes.
'…If we take our limiting generation times to be thirty minutes and one hour…'
Thinking out-loud, Mac finished writing out the last of the rather complicated mathematical model he and Alex had come up with in order to back-calculate exactly when Martijn had left his house. Alex took a step back, ran his eyes over the maths for a moment, then nodded in agreement. He reached out with his whiteboard marker and tapped a section of the equation.
'I haven't seen this before.'
Mac, who was now checking on the bacteria they were culturing in a makeshift incubator (they were growing, though more slowly than he would have liked, given the fact that they were on a deadline – but he couldn't do a thing about it, they'd grow when they were ready and no faster), glanced very quickly over at the section Alex was pointing at, then turned back to the bacteria and explained.
'It's from a paper that Jill Morgan and Ritchie co-authored, it's been accepted but it's not published yet. Uh, Jill's the-'
For some reason, not many people at the Phoenix seemed to remember her name, or notice her. Mac supposed it was because she was usually in the labs, and she'd been very shy at first, kind of still was with people she didn't know that well.
'The really cute blonde forensic tech with awesome glasses.' Mac started a little in surprise, glancing over at Alex. 'It'll be in the Journal of Forensic Sciences?' Mac just nodded, raising an eyebrow. Alex shrugged, seemingly nonchalantly. A little too nonchalantly. 'It's a substantial development in the field…and I may or may not have seen her reading it in the break room last week.'
Interesting, a voice in Mac's head said. Very, very interesting.
(It was, incidentally, the same voice that'd pointed out the way Billy and Riley had been looking at each other that time in Atlanta.)
(It was, to be honest, not a very active voice in Mac's mind.)
(He wasn't very good at this sort of thing.)
(He had no idea how he'd noticed Billy and Riley's significant glances when Jack hadn't.)
(Perhaps it was because Jack had a bit of a blind-spot regarding his surrogate daughter – whom he was very protective of – and potential boyfriends.)
If it was him or Jack, this would be grounds for teasing and getting up into each other's business.
But, as much as he liked Alex, he wasn't Jack. He wasn't Mac's actual partner.
It wouldn't be quite the same.
So, he just let it slide, gestured to the bacterial cultures.
'We're starting to see growth…'
PHOENIX FOUNDATION HEADQUARTERS
SOMEWHERE IN LA
'You're not allowed to die, Dalton, you still owe me a cheese Danish!'
'That was, like, fifteen years ago, Matty! And it was a cheese Danish! A cheese Danish!'
Bozer, who was sitting by Jack's bedside, as promised, going over financials that Riley had sent him, trying to get a lead for Mac and Alex on Martijn's location, swivelled his head from Matty to Jack and back again as they bickered (that is, Matty expressed her concern and affection for Jack, and Jack expressed his thanks for said concern and affection and his returned affection), like a spectator at a tennis match.
His whole adopted family was crazy. Nuts. Round the twist. Completely bonkers.
But they were his bonkers surrogate family.
'...Oh, you know you love me, Matty, everyone's family at the Phoenix!'
As Matty left Jack's room, rolling her eyes with a soft, fond smile on her face (not that Jack saw, since she had her back to him), Beth stepped into the room to check on her patient.
She definitely saw the look on Matty's face.
And Matty definitely saw that Jack's words (and her expression) had struck a chord of sorts with the young doctor, triggered something in her brain, gotten the cogs turning in her mind.
Her smile shifted a little more as she walked towards the elevator to check in with Riley, becoming more knowing, more certain, as well as a tiny bit sad, but still with plenty of that softness in it.
Beth kept her focus and her professionalism throughout Jack's check-up (there were no signs of infection and his blood pressure was normal, and he seemed to be in pretty good spirits, even if he was grousing about how long it was taking Mac to finish his mission and come back to his real partner), but after she was done and had updated his medical records, and had sat down in her little office for a scheduled break, Jack's earlier words to Matty left the little corner of her mind she'd stowed them in while she'd worked and instead danced across her thoughts.
'Everyone's family at the Phoenix!'
That seemed to be true, from what she'd seen.
The Phoenix's infirmary was the most unusual 'hospital' she'd ever seen, in just about every way.
She understood the closeness between the medical staff, she'd seen that during her residency and her time in Syria. Long hours, weird hours, high pressure, high stress, plus common interests and goals and priorities meant that medical professionals naturally grew close, and when she'd been in Syria, what they'd seen, what they'd experienced, had brought her even closer to her MSF colleagues than usual.
But what she'd found both interesting, as well as hard to deal with, to get used to, was how close the Phoenix's medical staff were to the other employees, their patients. She had spent the last eight years of her life having it drilled into her that maintaining the proper distance from her patients was essential. When she'd taken her Oath, she'd sworn to herself to uphold the high ethical code of her profession. She'd understood that it'd be a little different when she'd started at the Phoenix; after all, unlike in an ER, she'd be seeing the same patients, the same people, day in, day out. It was only natural to get closer, to build a rapport and a relationship, and besides, I will remember that there is art to medicine as well as science, and that warmth, sympathy and understanding may outweigh the surgeon's knife or the chemist's drug. And the Phoenix was a very casual working environment.
(With the hours they worked, the secrets they kept, the pressure they were under, it was probably necessary or they'd all go mad.)
But even so…for example, Max, one of their surgical nurses (who also doubled as a normal nurse), was dating Agent Cheng, and no-one seemed to think that was inappropriate or crossing a line.
(Honestly, even if she wouldn't say anything, she thought it was.)
Teasing and joking with your patients was fine, even encouraged, given what they saw and went through regularly. Anything that could bring a little light into their lives would only improve their well-being, and as a doctor, that was her primary goal.
Friendship, she'd realized, was also acceptable, if only because it was impossible to avoid.
But dating? Or becoming incredibly close friends, family?
Surely that was crossing the line.
(Absolutely everyone who worked for the Phoenix was good at compartmentalizing, had been proven to be. Beth was pretty confident in her ability to compartmentalize, her time in Syria had proven that to herself, as had her first few months at the Phoenix, even. She was, by her own judgement, probably a little too attached to her patients, but when she stepped back and assessed as objectively as she could, she felt that it hadn't affected her work at all. In some ways, that closeness seemed to be having a positive impact; it certainly let her improve their morale in ways that wouldn't be possible without knowing them reasonably well. And none of the more senior, experienced medical staff had told her off or raised any concerns; if anything, it was the opposite.)
(Still, she couldn't quite shake the feeling that years of training had instilled in her that she was toeing, maybe crossing, a line.)
Beth gave a sigh, then took a deep breath and refocused, deliberately trying to relax her mind, before heading towards the little kitchenette they had off the infirmary to heat up her packed dinner.
LOCAL HIGH SCHOOL
SAN DIEGO
'…Riley, he left the house between twenty and twenty-two hours ago.'
'That fits with the timeline on the potential kidnapping, and it narrows down my search parameters…' Riley's fingers clacked on her keyboard for a moment, before her voice rang out again over Mac's phone. 'Got it! I've got him in a black SUV, heading north on the I5 six hours ago…and he does not look happy to be there.'
Mac and Alex exchanged a glance. It turned out that Martijn had been kidnapped after all. Alex spoke into Mac's phone.
'Can you track the vehicle?'
Mac hid a little smirk, as Riley replied, a bit of a smirk and plenty of sass in her voice.
'Already two steps ahead of you. I've found it, it's been dumped half a mile off the I5, texting you two the coordinates now…'
HALF A MILE OFF THE I5
SOMEWHERE NEAR SAN DIEGO
Mac and Alex got out of their car, and stared for just a second at the burned-out wreck in front of them.
Heat was still coming off it in waves.
The two blonde agents glanced at each other, then both turned to their car, before glancing at each other again.
'If we increase the air-flow…'
'By jury-rigging the exhaust?'
Alex nodded, a touch of a smirk growing on his face.
'Great minds think alike.'
'We do still have that hose we borrowed from the house. And the duct tape.'
They'd taken the garden hose from Martijn's temporary home. It'd been the closest thing to a rope they could find, and they'd figured that they might have need of it to break into the high school.
(They hadn't counted on the conveniently-placed tree.)
(The duct tape was mostly because they'd figured that Martijn wasn't going to miss it…and besides, as Mac had said, duct tape always came in handy.)
Alex grabbed the hose and the roll of duct tape, while Mac dropped to the ground and slid under their car. Alex started attaching the hose to the exhaust, as clanking and clanging sounds (music to his ears) started sounding out from under the car.
Fifteen minutes later, Mac and Alex were searching the cooled-down, burned-out car for evidence.
Alex held up a small piece of paper into the light, squinting at it for a moment.
'A receipt for a very expensive tux…'
Mac picked up a larger, thicker piece of paper with the tweezers from his Swiss Army knife, examining the faded markings on it with the magnifying glass.
'…a print-out of the Wiki-How page for tying a bow tie.' His face screwed up a little in confusion. 'Who prints stuff like this out anymore?'
Alex prised open the glove box, and pulled out a relatively-undamaged sheet of paper.
'And an invoice for a fancy catering company. The event's dated for tonight.'
Mac grabbed his phone off the charred front passenger seat, and snapped a picture of the invoice and sent it to Riley, who was on speaker.
'Riley…?'
Her nails clacked on her keyboard for a minute, as Mac and Alex kept searching, before she spoke.
'Company's legit…but two of their employees aren't.'
'Let me guess.'
'They're doing a black-tie event tonight.'
'One of the most exclusive social events of the season, hosted in a Malibu mansion owned by a guy whose tax returns don't quite explain his riches.'
Mac and Alex looked over each other. Both of them had ample grease under their nails. Mac's hair was a little rumpled, and he had a streak of soot on his cheek. Alex had soot in his hair, though he'd avoided grease stains, including on his still-pristine white shirt (Mac had no idea how he did that – he avoided wearing white shirts because he tended to get grease or whatnot on them, and while his modified laundry powder could get rid of just about anything and everything – at least the second incarnation could; the first had turned a whole load of Bozer's laundry pink – it was just annoying).
Mac raised a shoulder, a slightly-sheepish expression on his face, while Alex gave a little smirk and straightened the cuff of his leather jacket like it was a fancy suit jacket.
'Looks like we need a wardrobe change.'
'And an identity change.'
There was a distinctly amused note in Riley's voice when she responded.
She knew how much Mac hated shopping for anything that wasn't some kind of appliance or part or chemical or doo-dad that no-one else recognized.
(Dragging him away from garage sales was hard. Dragging him away from an appliances shop having a massive clearance was harder.)
(It was like the proverbial kid in a candy store.)
She also knew how much more he hated makeovers.
(She and Bozer had offered, multiple times.)
(They'd been turned down, each and every time, as his wardrobe attested.)
'We'll handle the identities, but you're on your own for the wardrobes.'
There was no time for them to get back to the Phoenix and all the way to Malibu for the party.
Mac made a face, as Alex smirked, straightened his other cuff, and clapped the other blonde on the shoulder.
'Shopping it is.'
PHOENIX FOUNDATION HEADQUARTERS
SOMEWHERE IN LA
'…And he's all young and got all his hair, and you know my hairline's not what it used to be!' Jack threw his hands up in a panic. 'I reckon this might be the end for us!'
Bozer, who had been, in his defence, listening to Jack rather tolerantly for the last twenty-five minutes as he ranted and raved about how Mac was going to trade him in for a younger model with a bigger brain, just raised a disbelieving eyebrow, then sighed internally (never mind giving Beth hazard pay for having to see far more of Jack than any of them ever wanted to, he deserved hazard pay for having to put up with this) and spoke comfortingly.
'Jack, Mac loves you. He loves you very much. He isn't going to leave you for Alex just because he has more hair, is more than a decade younger than you, can solve a Rubik's cube blindfolded and recite the Periodic Table or is more fashionable or because he's also blonde.'
Those were all reasons that Jack had given.
(Bozer was going to get Beth to check his medication when she came to check on him next. He highly doubted that she'd made a mistake, but this was a little nuts, even for Jack.)
Jack stared at Mac's BFF for a long moment.
He really, really liked Bozer.
(Of course he did. He was good people. Really good people.)
(Jack didn't know how many guys could have dealt with their best friend coming home from Afghanistan carrying the baggage that Mac had been carrying and with a new best friend in tow to boot the way Bozer had.)
(He'd stuffed both Mac and Jack with his excellent cooking, mother-henned the hell out of them – Mac especially – and welcomed Jack home with open arms and almost as enthusiastically as he'd welcomed home Mac. He'd quickly accepted the closeness, the bond, between Mac and Jack – forged in fire and danger and violence, out in the desert, different from the one that Mac and Bozer had, stronger, in some ways – without any signs of jealousy or bitterness and the three of them had quickly settled into a dynamic that worked.)
(In hindsight, Jack realized that that had been the only possible outcome. Bozer was well aware that his BFF had a heart bigger than his brain, and had plenty of love to go around, and Bozer's heart was just as big.)
He also admitted that he really admired Bozer.
(The younger man was so secure in his status as Mac's BFF. It seemed that he'd always been.)
(Despite the fact that if you'd asked Jack when he'd met the barely-a-man he'd called Carl's Jr all those years ago what his best friend must be like, Jack would have described some kind of science nerd, someone just as – or almost as – smart as his partner who loved to build crazy things out of random doo-dads and had dreams about teaching unicorns about really hard maths and physics.)
(Like Frankie. Or Allie. Or perhaps Riley or Beth. Or Alex Lucas.)
(Maybe it was because they'd become friends so young, had so many shared experiences. Or because in high school and middle school, Mac and Bozer had had more in common than they seemed to, superficially, now.)
(Or maybe it was just Bozer. Or Mac-and-Bozer.)
Jack had plenty of self-esteem. He was a damned good shot and a damned good agent, a master tactician and a pretty damn good interrogator. He was a good person. He was really charming. And funny. And he knew Die Hard inside out. And he was pretty confident that he was doing a decent job at being a pseudo-dad.
But he also knew that science was not his strong point, to say the least.
He didn't understand a fair few of the words that came out of his partner's mouth. He probably didn't understand 90% of what went whirring around his brain.
He knew that Mac had to go to significant extra effort to translate his thoughts, the multitude of brilliant, life-saving, on-the-spot ideas he came up with, into a language that Jack could understand.
Surely, sometimes, Mac wished he had a partner that he didn't have to translate for? One who spoke his language?
At that moment, Beth stepped through the curtains, checking the monitors by Jack's bed, before gesturing to his leg under the hospital gown and blankets. When Jack nodded (and Bozer looked away), she raised the blankets and his gown to check that there were no signs of infection. She nodded in satisfaction, making some notes on her tablet, as Jack started rambling again.
'I mean, I guess we got the he's the brains, I'm the brawn, thing going on, but…'
Meanwhile, Bozer caught Beth's eye, and stage-whispered to her.
'Check his medication dose. Please.'
The I love him, but can't take much more of this went unsaid.
Beth smiled rather wryly (Jack had been so loud, that she'd probably heard most of what he'd said), and checked his IV dutifully. She then glanced back at Bozer and shook her head.
There was nothing wrong with his medication.
Jack was just being extra Jack.
'…Come on, Boze, tell me it ain't so! Tell me it ain't!'
Bozer glanced at Jack, then over at Beth again, something imploring in his eyes. He mouthed help at her.
(She was a doctor. She couldn't ignore a plea for help!)
Beth blinked twice and seemed to think for a moment, before turning to Jack, her voice gentle and calm…though not without a note of wry amusement that she didn't seem able to fully conceal.
'You and Mac's partnership is legendary. I knew that, even before I'd met either of you.' She paused. 'Everyone says it's because you two are complimentary in so many ways, and because you care so much about each other…'
A MENSWEAR SHOP
(A VERY EXPENSIVE MENSWEAR SHOP)
(THEY DO HAVE TO LOOK THE PART)
Mac and Alex (or, rather, John and Bobby Darling, brothers, successful young inventors – very successful young inventors – and occasional venture capitalists), now free of all grease and soot, hair styled neatly and wearing very sharp tuxedos, strode out of the tuxedo shop.
Mac adjusted the left cuff of his shirt slightly, to make the paperclip he'd stowed there a tiny bit more accessible.
'Matty is not going to like the bill on this one.' A sheepish half-smile, half-smirk appeared on his face. 'At least it's not as bad as Turkey.'
(The floor of a hizar and a Turkish dam had not been cheap.)
A very similar expression appeared on Alex's face.
'That was peanuts, compared to Budapest.'
THE SOCIAL EVENT OF THE SEASON
MALIBU
Alex and Mac, in a black Cadillac (they had to look the part, after all), drove up the long driveway of a very, very fancy and very, very expensive-looking mansion.
The beautifully-manicured gardens were exquisitely, tastefully decorated, and women in evening gowns and men in tuxedos were already climbing the steps, as valets took their cars away to be parked.
'Oh, Nick's gonna be pissed he missed this.'
'Jack is not going to be happy that he missed this.'
They spoke in sync, and glanced over at one another, shaking their heads, little smiles on their faces. It was Alex who spoke first.
'Jack a James Bond fan too?'
(Nick certainly was.)
Mac nodded.
'John McClane is his all-time favourite, but James Bond is up there.'
They were now just behind the first car in the queue for the entry, and as they watched, a woman wearing very, very high and very, very pointy heels stepped out of the vehicle in front.
Alex's grin and voice took on a wry tone.
'May and Rowena will be happy they missed the stilettos though.'
Mac, who had once had to build a device to massage Riley's very sore feet for her, nodded in agreement, also with a wry smile on his face.
They pulled up at the entrance, and got out, straightening their tuxes. Alex dropped the keys into the hand of a valet, and they walked up the steps and into the mansion.
As the two of them strode through the doors and into the party, many eyes fell on them.
(The owners of the eyes were predominantly female.)
(Some had distinctly predatory looks in their eyes.)
(Mac's first instinct was to wonder if, perhaps, their covers had been rumbled, a thought which he quickly dismissed.)
(Alex's first instinct was to smirk. That was not dismissed in the slightest.)
They exchanged a quick glance, wordlessly divvying up tasks (they both knew that they had to remain inconspicuous – that is, behave just like the other guests, gather as much intel as possible from talking to the guests, and keep their eyes and ears open), before Alex made eye contact with a young Hispanic woman in an eye-catching red dress, and deliberately straightened his tuxedo jacket, rolling his shoulders, and headed towards her.
'Let me show you how it's done, little brother…'
Mac rolled his eyes, shook his head (it was in-character), and headed towards the buffet of food laid out, walking a little more slowly, leisurely, all the better to eavesdrop.
Mac, a glass of champagne in hand, nodded and smiled in thanks at the waiter as he took a canape, using the action as an excuse to lean closer to the host, who was talking in rapid Spanish with several other men and one woman, a bit like a proud boss, boasting.
'…business is excellent, despite the increase in regulation and enforcement, we still have plenty of customers, they cannot get enough of our product, after all!'
It could be an entirely innocuous conversation.
Then again, it might not be.
Alex smiled at the young woman in the red dress (her name was Julia), as she raised a finger to his lips in the corner of the ballroom.
'I know somewhere…more private we can go, Mr Darling. But you have to promise not to tell anyone…Mr Rodriguez would be most unhappy if he caught us.'
Rodriguez was the owner of the mansion, whose money, Riley was quite sure, came at least partly from the La Plata cartel.
He kissed the tip of her finger, smirk widening.
'My lips are sealed.'
She smiled seductively and took his hand, leading him through a doorway into a quieter room, then, after glancing surreptitiously around, opened a door on the other side of the room, and pulled him up the stairs on the other side.
Out of the corner of his eye, Mac watched Alex be led into a quieter room off the main party area by the woman in the red dress. His eye was caught not even a half-second later by a painting on the wall in the room.
It was an abstract piece, depicting some kind of symbol.
It also looked very, very familiar.
Where had he seen it before?
Finally, it hit him.
It was a tattoo that all members of the La Plata cartel had.
Photos had been in the briefing file given to them by the DEA.
Mario Rodriguez's money came at least partially from the La Plata cartel.
But why did he have a painting of their symbol?
Mac, under the guise of admiring the artwork that adorned the walls (there were many paintings in the room), walked over to the nearest piece, examined it for a while, then kept moving on until he reached the one he really wanted to take a good look at.
He didn't recognize the artist's signature, but it was dated 1962.
The painting came first, not the cartel.
And the painting was owned by Mario Rodriguez…
In a very private room, which they'd had to move past sixteen security measures to enter, Alex smirked, reaching out and putting a finger on Julia's lips as she leaned a little closer to him. Instead, he leaned forward and kissed her cheek, then whispered into her ear, keeping his tone teasing, flirtatious.
'I never kiss a lady on the lips on a first date.'
His job meant he had to get up close and personal to suspects or (potential) victims or even those completely uninvolved from time to time, even if his team avoided it whenever practical. But he'd worked out little tricks to limit how up close and personal he had to get, because honestly, it wouldn't sit well with him if he didn't.
She smirked right back at him, winding her arms around his neck.
'Even if the lady wishes it?'
He smirked right back, bending to whisper in her ear again.
'I can be persuaded.'
As she pressed up against him to press a kiss to his jaw, starting her persuasion, Alex slipped a hand into his pocket, pressing the on/off button in a set pattern.
Three seconds later, his phone rang, causing Julia to pull away. He affected a hesitant look, an apologetic look, and pulled out his phone, deliberately letting her get a glimpse at the caller ID, which showed a very beautiful, ethnically-ambiguous woman.
(May, his teammate and the closest thing to a sister he'd ever had, not that Julia knew that.)
(Carter had custom-written the program for him, precisely for a situation like this.)
Julia pulled back further, raising an eyebrow, something fiery flashing in her eyes.
'Girlfriend?'
He hesitated.
'Fiancée.'
Julia glared daggers at him.
'You...I…I can't believe you!'
She slapped him, hard, then turned around and flounced off, fire in all her actions.
Alex rubbed his sore cheek (he – or rather, John Darling – totally deserved it), and started searching the room.
He'd just gotten into a locked drawer when Mac slipped into the room, caught his eye, and spoke.
'Mario Rodriguez doesn't just make some of his money from the La Plata cartel…'
PHOENIX FOUNDATION HEADQUARTERS
SOMEWHERE IN LA
In the infirmary, sitting by Jack's bed, laptop on one of those little hospital bedside tables, as he was going through the financials of one Mario Rodriguez (the hidden ones that the IRS had no clue about that Riley had dug out), Bozer spoke to Riley over his phone, eyes wide.
'…He makes all of it from the cartel...'
In the war room, Riley turned to Matty, expression set.
'…He's El Jefe.'
Matty's expression, too, grew very grim.
She raised her phone and made a call.
It failed to connect.
She tried another number, glancing at Riley as she did so. The hacker, eyes concerned, immediately started typing frantically on her laptop.
Riley looked up grimly as Matty's call to Alex also failed to connect.
'They're in a signal-jammed area of the house.'
Matty turned to the live image of the still-buzzing party at Mario Rodriguez's mansion on the big screen.
'They're on their own.'
MARIO RODRIGUEZ'S MANSION
MALIBU
Mac tapped on the wood panelling on the wall with his fist periodically as he walked along the length of room, listening carefully to the resulting sound. Eventually, he found a panel where the noise was distinctly hollower, and took out his Swiss Army knife, pulling out the screwdriver, and inserting it into the gap between the panels.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, closer to the door, Alex searched through some previously-locked drawers, pocketing the hard drive he found.
Just as Mac finished prising open the panel, revealing a dark, low-ceilinged corridor, he heard a scream.
It was faint, but he definitely heard it.
He stilled, and turned to Alex.
'Did you hear that?'
The other man nodded, and as he did, another, ever-so-slightly louder scream echoed out.
It seemed to be emanating from further down the previously-hidden corridor.
Silently, after exchanging another glance, Mac and Alex headed towards the screams.
PHOENIX FOUNDATION HEADQUARTERS
SOMEWHERE IN LA
In the lab, Jill carefully took swabs from the huge array of evidence retrieved from the house that Martijn had been living in (courtesy of the DEA), dissolving the trace evidence she collected in a suitable solvent in Eppendorf tubes, before taking small samples for the mass spec.
There was, in her opinion, never such thing as too much evidence.
Still sitting by Jack's side (and tuning out the very long story that he was telling, which involved fighting a tiger-bear and punching a shark – Beth was very kindly and very patiently half-listening, as far as Bozer could tell, as she sat on Jack's other side and filled out supply orders; she seemed to have realized that Jack needed to feel that he had some kind of audience, even if he knew that said audience wasn't paying much attention), Bozer burrowed deeper into Mario Rodriguez's financials.
He'd seen enough courtroom dramas to know that defence attorneys were really good at destroying witness credibility.
But financial records were a whole other story.
In the war room, Riley typed frantically, finding links between various aliases, then linking those aliases to real identities, building up a network, mapping the various members of the La Plata cartel's leadership, and their true identities.
The information that the DEA were relying primarily on Martijn's testimony for.
MARIO RODRIGUEZ'S MANSION
MALIBU
Mac and Alex came to a bend in the corridor, and carefully, after they shared a glance and a few hand gestures, Mac ducked his head out around the corner
There were two big, burly goons stationed outside of a door, behind which the screams were definitely coming from.
The two blonde agents exchanged a glance, both of them shrugging out of their tuxedo jackets and dropping them soundlessly to the floor.
'You go left, I go right?'
Alex smirked and nodded in agreement, rolling up his sleeves, and then, on a count of three, Mac pulled out his Swiss Army knife, turning on the flashlight, and pointed it across the corridor, drawing the guards' eyes.
'Did ya see that?'
The guard who hadn't spoken definitely did not see or hear Alex coming, not until a second before he had Alex's bow tie wrenched tight around his neck, cutting off his airway.
The guard who'd spoken didn't get to see much more, because Mac's tuxedo jacket was soon flung over his head, his knees were kicked out from under him, and then, with a meaty thwack, he fell limp in Mac's arms.
The door flung open, just as Alex finished grabbing one of the guard's Glocks and checking the magazine.
'What the-'
The cartel member didn't even get to finish his sentence, because he fell backwards, into one of his colleagues, as Mac thrust the unconscious guy he had in his arms at him.
Meanwhile, Alex shot a fourth guy, who was about ten feet away, deeper inside the room, in the shoulder, causing him to clutch the wound in pain and fall back onto the floor.
Then, he stepped forward and clocked the guy who'd been stumbled into by the guy that Mac had tossed the unconscious man at in the head with the butt of the gun, and the fourth cartel member (the one who was on the floor and struggling under the weight of his unconscious colleague) glanced from one Phoenix agent to the other, then put up his hands.
Alex grabbed the man's weapon, then cuffed his hands together with his belt, as Mac walked over to the wide-eyed, shell-shocked, roughed-up-and-bruised and still-very-congested (sinusitis was awful) Martijn, who was duct-taped to the chair in the middle of the room, crouched down beside him and waved a little awkwardly.
'Uh, hi. I'm MacGyver, that's Alex, and we're here to get you out of here on the behalf of the DEA.' As he spoke, Mac cut the duct tape with the scissors, and not even half a second after he'd finished, Martijn sneezed, the sound rather miserable. Mac just reached into his pocket and pulled out his handkerchief and handed it to the poor man, offering him a reassuring smile. 'You'll feel better after a course of mild antibiotics; it's not viral.'
Martijn stared at him, a very what in the world expression on his face.
Alex chuckled and shook his head as he finished restraining the bad guys.
'We'll explain in the car, but the gist of it is that you should be very, very grateful to the little guys living in your nose.'
PHOENIX FOUNDATION HEADQUARTERS
SOMEWHERE IN LA
In the Phoenix parking garage, after dropping poor Martijn off (at least the man would have less of a target on his back now, with the leadership of the cartel taken out and the evidence that they'd found at Rodriguez's, plus what Jill, Riley and Bozer had found) at a local hospital under DEA protection, Mac and Alex ran into a bulky brunette man with hair greying and receding at the temples (Nick Edwards), a tiny, serious-looking Asian woman of indeterminate age (Rowena Ho), an ethnically-ambiguous but very beautiful woman with a pixie cut of about thirty-five (May Torres) and an African-American man with a shaved head, wearing a T-shirt, skinny jeans and suspenders (Carter Justin). The four of them were getting out of a car, and all smiled and grinned as they laid eyes on Alex.
Nick held up his arms, the grin on his face very broad.
'Flyboy! You miss us?'
Alex snorted, a teasing spark in his eyes, as well as deep affection, love.
Mac smiled, walking away to give them a little more privacy.
Clearly, the Edwards team were family, just like his team was.
'I missed Rowena, Carter and May, but not you, old man.'
Nick put his hands on his hips, and Rowena gave a fond, amused little smile, as Carter and May pointed at Alex.
'Burn.'
'Of course you missed us, bro!'
Still looking put-out, Nick almost-pouted, and pointed at Alex.
'For that, you're buying tonight.'
Alex just put his hands up, as if to say, okay, okay.
'7:30 PM, the usual place? Debriefs should be done by then.'
Nick, Rowena, May and Carter all nodded eagerly.
'It's a date, Flyboy.' Then, Nick glanced at the evidence bag that Alex held in his left hand (it contained the hard drive he'd found at Rodriguez's, plus several other choice pieces of evidence) and waggled his eyebrows, a smirk growing on his face. 'Making a personal delivery to Lil' Miss Morgan?'
(Nick thought he was clever, using the nickname Jill had quickly been given when she'd joined the Phoenix in that pun. Carter, Alex, May – and Mac, but he wasn't a fan of puns in general – thought he clearly wasn't.)
(Rowena was simply indulgent.)
Alex shrugged in a way that was definitely deliberately (and falsely) nonchalant.
'She is the best forensic analyst on the West Coast.'
Nick's smirk widened, and he waggled his eyebrows again, even as something soft, fond, happy for his younger teammate, hopeful for him, appeared in his eyes.
'Flyboy's thinking of giving up his playboy ways!'
(Alex had a bit of a reputation with women, Mac had heard. From Phoenix scuttlebutt, he was a charmer and a flirt who went on a lot of dates, and never slept alone unless he was on a mission or wasn't in the mood. But, it was also said, he never made it seem like there was anything on offer except a night or two of fun. With respect, but no strings. No feelings.)
(It fit Mac's read of him, what his gut told him. Alex was a very good guy, he wouldn't deceive or lie to women for the sake of company.)
I admit that I'm probably a little bit old-fashioned when it comes to this sort of thing. I'm not exactly keen on flings or no-strings-attached.
Which, arguably, may not be a good thing, considering my line of work. Relationships are tough when you're a covert operative of the US government.
But people do call me a Boy Scout for a reason. And I was primarily raised by my grandfather, who taught me that a gentleman always picks up a lady at her front door for a date – never early, never late – with flowers, then walks her to her door at the end of the night and kisses her goodnight, but never, ever kisses a lady on the lips on the first date.
I do try to be a gentleman. Most of the time.
But as long as no-one's getting hurt, no-one's being lied to or deceived, I don't judge how other people choose to conduct their private lives.
Alex rolled his eyes and pointed at Nick with his free hand.
'Well, you should know all about how when a man starts getting a little older, he starts thinking about settling down…but then again, I suppose it was so long ago for you that you might have forgotten…'
In the elevator on their way up to the main entrance, both Mac and Alex slipped off their suit jackets, Mac draping his over his arm as he loosened his bow tie, Alex slinging his jacket over his shoulder instead as he rolled up his shirt-sleeves, before tucking a finger under the collar of the jacket and carrying it slung over his shoulder.
(Monkey suits were uncomfortable.)
The opening elevator doors revealed Beth (who immediately looked them up and down for any signs of injury) and Jill (who looked them up and down for different reasons, which Mac didn't notice, but Alex definitely did), about twenty feet down the hallway and clearly waiting for them.
(Jill had been ordered by Matty to retrieve the evidence herself, immediately. Beth had made a deal of sorts with Jack, so that he'd be a good – well, at least, better – patient.)
Mac smiled. Alex smirked and deliberately shifted his shoulders a bit (which he definitely noticed made Jill's eyes follow his movements). The two of them walked over to the two young women, and Alex held out the bag of evidence to the blonde analyst.
'This is a welcome I could get used to.'
Jill took the evidence bag with an awful lot of excitement and happiness for what it was (but then again, she did get very excited about forensics).
Mac gestured to his suit jacket, a half-wry, half-sheepish look on his face.
'This is almost-certainly the warmest welcome we're going to get; Matty's not going to like the bill on these.'
'We could easily make it back just by making a wall calendar with photos of…' Jill blushed, as she realized that she'd said that out loud, and held up the bag of evidence. 'Umm…I, uh, have to get this back to the lab. Now. Right now. Uh, bye.'
She stood there awkwardly for a brief moment more, before making to scurry away, but not before Alex smirked a little wider and winked at her.
'I have heard great things about your photography skills…'
Jill's cheeks flushed further at the definite note of flirting in his voice, and stood there for a moment longer, as if she was trying to decide what to say, before deciding to say nothing at all and scurrying off.
Mac, Alex and Beth just watched her go for a moment, Alex with a smug smirk on his face but something decidedly softer in his eyes, while Mac had an eyebrow slightly raised (Jill used to be almost-painfully shy, the operative phrase being used to be, or so he'd thought…), and Beth was a touch wide-eyed.
Then, they shook themselves out of it, and Beth turned to Mac.
'I regret to inform you that you owe Jack a six-pack of beer and a steak dinner from his favourite steakhouse…' Her voice shifted from mock-overly-serious to half-amused, half-curious. '…because, apparently, if you cooked it, you'd nuke it.' As Mac chuckled and shook his head fondly, Beth hesitated for a beat. 'I was also supposed to punch you, but…' She hesitated for a moment longer, as Mac laughed again, still shaking his head (Jack was never going to change, something that he was very glad for), then reached out slowly and punched him extremely lightly in the bicep (it was really more a tap than anything else). She looked instantly regretful, and pulled her hand back very quickly, and Mac just made himself laugh a little harder, if only to reassure her. (It hadn't hurt at all; if Jack was delivering him the owed punch, he'd have been hit far harder.) Beth fiddled with her hands, biting her lip. 'I'm sorry, I really did swear to him I would; we made a deal, he swore on his Shelby Cobra and the collected works of Bruce Willis on DVD…' Alex raised an eyebrow at that, and Mac just nodded as if to say, yes, really. '…that he'd go to all his PT with minimal protesting, complaining and grumbling, and according to his medical records, he has a nasty habit of skipping sessions, so…'
Mac's expression turned into a half-sheepish grin, and he rubbed the back of his neck.
'At least three of those instances are my fault.' He smiled at her. 'I won't tell anyone if you don't, Beth, promise.'
Alex, who had a rather smug and knowing look on his face (Mac sighed internally – everyone was making a mountain out of a – large – molehill), and held out a hand to Mac, who took it and clasped it for a moment, before the two blonde agents shared a hug that involved plenty of back-slapping, and then, Alex held out a hand for Mac's tuxedo jacket, which Mac handed over. The slightly taller agent then gestured with his thumb towards wardrobe.
'I'll go drop these off before debrief, so you can pay your partner a visit.'
(Given that Alex winked at him, Mac was 100% sure that that wasn't the older agent's only motivation.)
(Mountains out of substantially-sized molehills, indeed.)
Still, he turned to Beth, gesturing towards the infirmary.
'Can I?'
She nodded and smiled wryly.
'I think I'm going to have to insist, Mac, for the sake of patient welfare. He needs reassuring that your bromance break-up is not imminent, and I think that his incessant complaining and long-winded, seemingly-pointless anecdotes are having a negative impact on the welfare of our other patients.'
Mac smiled wryly and fondly as they walked through the Phoenix.
'Oh, if he's complaining and telling those stories that go nowhere, he's fine. Has he broken out the shark-punching metaphor yet?'
'Twice.' Beth's brow furrowed in confusion. 'What does it mean?'
Mac shrugged.
'I have absolutely no idea.'
Beth gave a little snort of laughter, then tilted her head a little to the left and glanced up and over at him.
'And exactly what did you do to his steak?' She paused. 'Please tell me you didn't really nuke it…though I did see a documentary in which they exposed a steak to high levels of bacteria, then exposed it to radiation to disinfect it to try and see if it was safe to eat…'
That jogged something in his memory; he thought he'd seen something like that in science class in the 9th grade (which he admittedly hadn't paid the best attention too, Mr Rochester was nowhere near as much of an expert as Mr Ericson and Mac had known the whole curriculum inside out. Mr Rochester had never liked him, which he supposed was fair, because Mac had corrected him in class twenty-nine times by Thanksgiving.)
They reached the elevator that led down to the infirmary, and stepped inside, as Mac told the story of how his and Jack's bromance had nearly ended prematurely due to irreconcilable differences regarding their steak preferences.
'No, I didn't nuke his steak. Years ago, I forgot to ask Jack how he liked his steak and cooked it to medium-rare using my steak-cooking algorithm. He likes it so blue it's practically raw, so naturally, he wasn't happy. Ever since, he's been very Jack about it…'
They walked out of the elevator, Beth shaking her head and laughing, Mac with a half-rueful, half-smug grin on his face. His expression grew more serious as he glanced over at the doctor.
'Thanks for looking after him.'
Beth smiled.
'It is literally my job description.'
'Doesn't mean you don't deserve thanks.'
She smiled and nodded gratefully, as they walked into the infirmary, and were greeted by Jack, as obnoxiously loud as ever.
'There you are, brother! I was beginning to think you'd gone and run off with this Alex Lucas and left poor old Jack broken-hearted in the dust!'
AN: Did you guys enjoy that? I know I split up Mac and Jack this time, but I'm pretty sure the bromance still comes through…and it was too much fun to resist! Alex Lucas and the rest of the Edwards team really are a giant meta joke, because my brain is weird. My characterization of Alex is based on the notion of 'what if Mac had a cooler, bad-boy older brother?' and fusing the character of Alex Summers from X-Men: First Class with Mac! And before I forget - I've got to give helloyesimhere a shout-out for the cheese Danish headcanon!
I am completely, totally and utterly exhausted this week – I've had three 12-hour days, and one crazy 14 hour day (I was in the lab from 8:40 to 10:40 at night!), but my science is finally (sort-of) cooperating! (Seriously, Mac, in my honest opinion, isn't just damn good, he's also damn lucky!)
There is an episode tag for Detours for this episode; it'll be up on Wednesday – here's the summary:
Hemoglobin, tag to 2.07, One to Two. Mac and Alex Lucas treat their teams, their boss and a certain forensic analyst and a certain doctor to a steak dinner. Teasing and knowing looks ensue. After all, what is family for?
(Team-as-Family fluff, with a side of romance and some character and relationship development. That's all it is!)
The next episode will hopefully be up next week; here's the press release:
3.08, Pumpkin to Pie. The Coltons show up in LA chasing the biggest bounty of their careers…who just so happens to be the team's target. Yet again. Jack, Bozer and Mac take the opportunity to have a chat with Billy, and the team channels Cage for Halloween.
A couple of hints/minor spoilers:
There will be two shovel talks. Who delivers them? :P And if this were a real episode, Isabel Lucas's name would appear in the opening credits.