Jack had been more than a little concerned by the quiet emotionless voice Mac had used during their phone call and his sense of unease grew when he pulled up to Mac's house and found all the lights blazing from the windows. When he walked through the living room and found the furniture cushions in disarray, and the magazines that were usually on the coffee table scattered on the floor, his steps quickened. His concern ratcheted up even more when he found Mac, sitting on the floorboards of the deck, rather than in a chair, next to the cold, unused fire pit, staring off into the night sky. Jack knew that face too well. He'd only ever seen it on one other occasion, but it had been terrifying. A friend of Mac's had called him after Peyna's death saying that Mac had been in the hospital for four days. Jack had immediately felt his stomach drop and asked how badly he was hurt. The kid, Thompson, had let out a long shaking sigh. "That's the thing. He's basically okay. He got knocked around a little, had a concussion, but it's more that he hasn't eaten or said a word since we brought him in."

"Nothing?" Jack had asked.

"Well, that's actually why I tracked you down. I know you're back stateside now, but I sat with him for a while last night. Around sunrise … um that was a few hours ago here, sir … he looked at me, really looked at me, and for a minute he looked like Mac … that light he has … you know?"

"I do," Jack had said, thinking poor Ricky Thompson, who was even younger than Mac, was havin' a hell of a tough week.

"And he talked. But all he said was, 'Jack. Call Jack.' So I did some digging, sir, and I guess I found you."

Jack had been on a flight less than an hour later. It had taken him about nine hours of constant gentle chatter to help that young EOD tech to find his way out of his own brain. Jack had spent the years since worried that if Mac ever went back into whatever strange place full of dark shadows and twisted hallways he'd been lost in, he'd never find his way out again. Jack could feel his heart hammering, a small frightened animal trapped in the cage of his chest, until Mac turned and looked over his shoulder, completely lucid, if a little sad. "Hey, Jack. Thanks for coming."

Jack dropped down onto the deck next to MacGyver, crossing his legs and leaning his arms on them casually, like he wasn't sick with worry. "Always, bud. You freaked me out a little bit … I thought you'd gone off on me again and I …"

"I told you, Jack. That won't happen. I said I'd call you." Instead of defensive or dismissive, Mac's voice was almost perfectly flat, like something meant to be experienced in three dimensions squashed onto a sheet of paper.

Jack kept his physical distance. Mac looked almost perfectly relaxed, but his tension was humming off him in waves. Jack thought if he touched him, he might just bolt. "And you did. You did call me. Do you feel like it's trying to happen?" Jack wasn't sure what the right course of action would be if Mac said yes, but he wanted him to try to express what had made him pick up the phone.

"No … Yeah … Maybe … But it can't, Jack. I can't go there, where it all is, but I can't let it out either ... I have to be okay, if I start being not okay … I have to not think about it, lock it all back up, just lock it …"

"Hey, Mac. Slow down a minute." Now Jack risked putting his hand on Mac's arm. Instead of flinching, which was what Jack was half expecting, Mac shifted himself closer, almost, but not quite leaning on him. "I think we've finally stumbled on the problem."

Mac glanced at him. The dark eyes that were always Mac's cue that everything was going to be alright, that someone was looking out for him, were trained on him with soft seriousness. Mac looked away quickly. It made him feel like crying, really crying; and if he started right now, he didn't think he'd ever stop. "Oh yeah?"

Now Jack slung an arm around his shoulders. "You think you always need to be okay. Sometimes, brother, being not okay is absolutely essential to survival. Sometimes it just how we let things go."

"Jack, I can't …"

"If you never let things go Mac, if you just carry everything, all the time … It can get awful heavy."

"No, I don't want …"

"Mac, for the first time, maybe the first time in your life, everyone around you just wants you to take care of yourself, to be you, brother." Mac's breathing changed a little and the tension in his shoulders increased. "You know me and Boze are always gonna feel that way. And now you've got Riley, too. We're your family." Mac nodded almost imperceptibly. "But I know your family wasn't always like that." Mac's head dropped toward his chest and Jack could almost feel the kid grinding his teeth. "Your mom was too sick after a while … And your dad was too selfish. Even your granddad … I'm sure he did his best, but I think maybe you were too much for him because a lot of your stories sound like he was trying harder to get you to fit in than to be yourself."

Mac nodded again almost reluctantly.

"And work … War is war, and when I could offer you the DOD transfer to DXS out of a warzone I thought I was doing a good thing, but … Sometimes I've almost wanted to quit the Phoenix and drag you away with me. Work has almost encouraged you to stomp down on what you need." Mac almost started to pull away, and Jack relaxed, resisting the urge to try to keep Mac by his side. The result was Mac realizing he wasn't trapped, that he didn't want to take off, and leaning closer. "Thornton was always on you – 'You're fine Mac, come back to work Mac'. After Lake Como … you were still supposed to have a month's leave when she dragged you in to retrieve that bio-weapon and she used your guilt over Nikki to do it. No way you'd have gotten medical clearance for that mission either, but she was the boss and she bypassed all the usual protocols. And don't even get me started on Nikki, brother. After Cairo, you should've been taking it easy for months. You should've had that third surgery. But she was on you to get back to work, to go running on the weekend, to not get another scar … To pretend you were fine when you weren't."

Mac almost whispered, "She was here when I got home."

Anger flashed in Jack's eyes and he was glad Mac couldn't see it. He asked carefully, "Did you guys have the mother of all fights in your living room or something?"

Mac shook his head, starting to feel the return of the anger he'd felt when he saw her sitting on the couch going through his and Bozer's stuff. "No … She hacked our alarm system and was searching the house. Because I hadn't called her supposedly …"

"She did that?" He couldn't keep the heat out of his voice this time.

"Yeah … I don't know what to do about it, but I'm pretty sure I don't want to see her again. I … I just feel like she took two years of my life, Jack. Two years of my life were a lie. And then this stuff with Thornton …"

"Well, you've got a pile of honest folk in your life now, Mac. You want to report the break-in to Matty?" Mac considered it, then nodded. Jack unthinkingly squeezed him around the shoulders, and gentle as it was, he heard Mac's breath catch. "Hurtin', bud?"

"No, I'm …" Mac shrugged and his face wrinkled with the pain of it this time. "Okay, yeah."

"You take anything?"

No answer.

Jack got up and went into the house to find the prescription bottle he expected to find in Mac's coat or casually discarded somewhere. Mac wanted to get up and follow him, to protest that he didn't need anything, but just couldn't make himself care enough to do it. When Jack found the pills sitting neatly on the counter, it told him his partner had at least seriously considered taking them. He shook out two and grabbed a fresh water bottle. He headed back outside and found Mac in exactly the same position he'd left him in. He held out the pills and water bottle, expecting an argument. Mac just took them from him and dry swallowed the pills, putting the water bottle off to the side. "Thanks," he said quietly.

In the dim illumination of the distant city lights, Jack could see a single tear trailing down Mac's cheek. Jack resumed his post; arm draped loosely around Mac's shoulders, waiting for the walls to come down, the dam to break. It had been a long time coming and he'd known it was imminent when he saw how Alexei had reminded Mac of his younger self. "Everybody is giving you permission to not be okay right now, Mac." He came close to shrugging Jack's arm off, but stopped himself. Jack had something to say and he knew he needed to hear it. That's why he called Jack in the first place instead of just retreating inside himself. "You know why Matty sided with me over you getting your ankle looked at and then taking a couple of days off?"

Mac had practically forgotten all about that. He shook his head. "Maybe being a mother hen is contagious?" He'd meant it to come off as one of their usual teasing one liners but now he could hear the flatness in his own voice. It scared him a little. Because, not only was it familiar to Jack from that one disturbing occasion, MacGyver remembered it, too.

"Matilda Webber isn't going to have a touchy feely conversation. It's just not who she is. But she read your file. And she's a sharp as they come. She's also just a really decent person … And yeah, I'm sayin' nice things about Matty the Hun … I actually should probably stop callin' her that … But that was her way of telling you that she wants you taking care of yourself … not just gutting it out and suffering through … whatever … Phoenix has other agents. They only have one Mac."

Mac realized he was leaning fully into Jack's side. He could feel what was coming and was struggling with all his might to clamp down on it again, beginning to pull away. "They only have one Jack, too."

"Damn right." Mac was starting to put his walls back up. Jack could feel it. He had been through similar experiences himself, but he'd never known anyone who could compartmentalize as well as Angus MacGyver and there were twenty years of pain weighing this man down right now. That was a terrible burden. If he didn't put it down, and soon, Jack was worried it would break him. Mac had called him for help. "Mac." He waited a beat until MacGyver looked at him. "I need you to hear me right now, bud. I want you to be as okay as you want to be, but I'm gonna tell you, you're gonna have to let yourself be not okay for a while before you get there. Just let yourself feel something, Mac." Mac frowned. He didn't really want to, had done everything he could to prevent it. "Mac, you know I think of you like a brother … like a son. And it's about time I said this without a belly full of beer, or being drugged by some POS terrorist, or on the verge of death. I love you, Mac."

That was all it took. Mac felt something inside him break and he'd expected it to be terrible, like a vial of dark poison in clear water, but the almost immediate sense of liberation he felt was more like opening the windows on a sunny morning after a long spell of rain. It allowed the tears he'd been holding back over the many tragedies of his life to truly start to fall in the uninhibited, unrestrained way that is so often the beginning of true healing. In the midst of it, he did manage to whisper, "I love you too, Jack."

0-0-0

The rising sun found the two of them finally moving inside. Jack put cushions back on the couch so they could sit. Mac started to help, but sat on the coffee table and let Jack do it when he saw those dark eyebrows draw together. When the cushions were arranged he sat down in one corner with his legs partially drawn up, facing Jack. They sat there for a while not saying anything. After a while, Jack wondered about the expression on his friend's face. He was wearing a funny half smile that even after all the years they'd known each other was unfamiliar. "How you doin' now Mac?"

The smile increased by a degree or two. "Good. Like actually good, not I'm-saying-good-so-you'll-leave-me-alone."

Jack smiled. He didn't know if he thought Mac was quite to 'good' yet, but he'd made a hell of a start. "That's good. Because you and I both know I'm not gonna leave you alone anyway."

Mac chuckled and got up. "I'm gonna start some coffee … Wanna go make a run to Wexler's and grab some bagels?"

Jack got to his feet, too. Jeez, kid, let yourself sit for five minutes, he thought. "Nope … You were up all night. And it was kind of intense. You need to sleep, bud."

Papa Jack was back. "I slept on the plane," he said dismissively.

"No … you did what you usually do. You pretended to sleep on the plane." Mac frowned. Was the man psychic? "The only way I've ever seen you actually rest at 40,000 feet is whacked out on pain meds and you and I both know you didn't take any." Mac grinned a little, but didn't stop pouring water into the coffee pot or grabbing beans to grind. "Angus Henry MacGyver, you need to get some rest."

Mac stopped. Jack was prepared to mount a fairly serious argument if the middle name got trotted out. "Jack," he said, very reasonably. "I'm jetlagged as it is. If I sleep all day today, it's gonna throw my sleep schedule off so much I'll be a zombie come Monday morning at the office."

He drowned out Jack's initial reply with the coffee grinder. But the reprieve was short. "Nice try … But I think we're gonna call in on Monday."

Mac's immediate impulse was to argue, but it was out of habit. It was a habit he had realized a few hours ago that needed changing, and since he'd instinctively reached out to Jack for help, some part of him must think Jack had some wisdom around these sorts of problems. "We are?"

Jack had seen the war of wanting to argue and wanting to make a change in Mac's eyes and his smile was very affectionate when he said, "You bet. You weren't paying any attention but Steve said that he expects your injury to take at least another month to get to a place where you can really rehab it and Matty gave you a look that was so close to motherly I almost cried."

Mac actually laughed, then he frowned … A month … Of desk duty? Well, shit.

"So it's not like you'd be missin' anything you wouldn't want to miss anyway."

"More sitting on my ass doing paperwork? You got that right."

Jack grinned. This was way more agreeable than he expected to find Mac, even with all the progress he'd made last night. "Good. Because I want to take you to meet my friend Marissa."

Mac tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. "Your massage therapist?"

Jack laughed, hoping this suggestion would be well received. "Yeah, well, I been sayin' that for years. But she's just my regular old therapist. She's pretty great. And she's vetted and looped in by Phoenix. Been on contract since the DXS days."

Mac's frown was increasing, but then it was interrupted by a yawn. He nodded. "Okay." Jack gave him a huge approving smile, but because the habit was so deeply ingrained, Mac added the caveat, "If Matty's okay with us blowing off coming into the office."

Easiest compromise in the world to make since, while he wasn't going to tell Mac, he'd already texted Matty and she'd told him she wanted both of them to take the week and let her know if they needed more. They finally had a real, complete, team that could handle almost any mission without being in undue danger and she wanted every member of it able to operate at their best. "You bet, brother. Now, how about you catch some shuteye?"

Mac sighed. He was beat. He felt like he'd run a marathon uphill without so much as a box of raisins for fuel. "Okay. You win. I'll try. What are you gonna do?"

"Well, since I don't have a bum shoulder and ribs that are still bruised six shades of southwestern sunset," Mac was very close to interrupting, but instead to just dropped his eyes with a grin when Jack gave him that knowing look that he always had. "I thought I'd clean up the rest of this mess, eat some of that pulled pork Boze left in the fridge, and maybe watch some Bruce Willis. I think I'm feelin' Armageddon."

Mac ran a hand through his hair on his way to his bedroom. Then he turned around grinning at Jack, "If you decide to watch something that doesn't suck, come wake me up."

Mac ducked into his room as a throw pillow came sailing his way, laughing more than it probably warranted, and appreciating the lightness he felt at having started to open some of the doors inside to let the light in. He lay down, expecting to give it a token twenty minutes and then get up and make Jack go get bagels, but when he woke up twenty dreamless hours later he fully appreciated for the first time what not carrying the weight of the world could be like.