Hey guys- A short chapter, but I figured I needed to get a quick 'feel good' update out. Expect one or two additional chapters that finish up the overall story line. I'll work on those early next week. So, keep calm and Macgyver on.
Thanks- WriterEl
::Matty, Jack, (+Mac) at Northwestern::
He was dying- absolutely and truly dying.
Death by boredom was real and he was experiencing it.
"Matilda, I am begging you. PLEASE just give me one or two files to look over."
"Dalton, when I say no I mean no."
A ping from the Phoenix Director's Blackberry alerted her to yet another message. This was the 5th email in less than 5 minutes. Jack could tell that she was starting to get annoyed at whatever international incident was playing out across her PDA's screen.
Before Jack could even initiate another plea, there was another ping that caused the petite woman's jaw to clench. Jack knew that the time for sweet talking his boss into letting him work on some cases was quickly running out. He needed to put on some Dalton charm fast.
"How 'bout you let me help with whatever job is blowin' up your phone? We both know that the best managers know how to delegate to their best employees."
Jack gave his most disarming grin and winked.
Matilda Webber was apparently totally immune to charm.
"Dalton, suck-it-up. YOU are still on crutches and Mac is still out for the count. There is no way in hell I am letting you work on anything that even remotely resembles an assignment. No remote surveillance, no data mining, no paperwork, no anything. And a big no concerning your ridiculous offer to help with this Scientifiques sur L'énergie nucléaire business."
Jack's grin fell and he started to get huffy, "Well, while you're busy ordering new eclairs or whatever from your...what...dessert dealer?... I am slowly losing my mind in this wasteland of doctors and fruit bowl desserts."
Matty looked up from her Blackberry with a face that more than adequately conveyed the fact that she could not possibly care any less about Jack's entertainment problems than she did now.
"Jack, that was French for the Scientists for Nuclear Energy. It's a watchdog group, not a pastry puff dealer. I mean... REALLY...In what universe does your brain even operate?"
Jack drew in a breath to answer, but was abruptly cut off by his boss.
"Don't even try to answer that. According to the latest tweet from the head of the IAEA, I have a few countries that are slowly losing their minds right now and they are light years ahead of you on my list of things to deal with. Why don't you just get Bozer to send you some more reading material?"
"Bozer!? Are you kidding me!? You do realize what happened the last time I did that don't you? The request for a book to help me practice my Pashto turned out to be a complete multi-volume set of obscure Afghani love sonnets. Not really the kind of words I need to perfect while potentially working undercover on the streets of Kabul."
That got a small, albeit brief, flash of amusmnet from the Director as she continued to scroll down through a series of ever increasing email chains.
Only half paying attention to her problematic agent at this point, Matty replied, "Take up finger painting."
Jack's jaw dropped. His boss was unbelievable. The injured operative sighed and stared up at the boring white ceiling in the boring white hospital room in the far corner of an utterly boring general ward. Despite Mac's condition improving to the point of no longer requiring the ICU, the medical staff remained adamant that both he and his still comatose partner stay isolated from any unnecessary stress induced by TV, radio, or any other form of electronic communications.
This was meant to facilitate their rest and recovery.
Jack felt like it was meant to facilitate his decent into madness.
"Matty, I swear to god the next time you come to visit, there will be a gaggle of med students taking notes around my bedside documenting the fascinating case of the guy that literally died from playing too much solitaire."
"Jack, you are a grown man. Deal with it."
The petite woman finally looked up from her handheld, "Look, I have to fly back to the foundation today to take care of some paperwork and to get a team working on this 'Eclair' issue as you so stunningly put it. I should be back by tomorrow evening."
After tucking the PDA into her inside jacket pocket, Matty reached up to gently squeeze Mac's motionless forearm.
"Mac, sorry to have to leave, but keep hanging in there. I'll see you tomorrow."
She then shot a scathing glare directly at Dalton, "YOU, don't harass the staff."
As the Director turned to leave, the former Delta threw up his hands in complete frustration.
"That's it? Well Ok then...I guess tomorrow we'll get to see how the medical staff deals with having to pry a deck of cards out of the cold dead hands of a patient that DIED OF BOREDOM! Make sure they put that on my headstone."
Jack's outburst didn't even phase Matty as she made her way towards the exit. Suddenly she stopped half-way out the door to say one last thing.
"Jack, don't forget to eat your vegetables."
With lips pursed tight and jaw firmly jutted out, Jack slowly shook his head giving Matty his death stare.
And with that, Matilda Webber was gone.
::Mac and Jack::
Smuggly, Jack wondered what the outcome of the argument would have been like if he had tried to woo Matty with his newly acquired romantic Pashto. In every scenario that he mentally played out, he ended up dead in the first 30 seconds. Some battles you just couldn't win.
With a big sigh, the older agent swiveled on his crutches, made his way back to Mac's bedside, and sank deep into the over-sized hospital chair. After propping up his good leg on the edge of his friend's cot, the Texan began drumming out a cadence on his chest to release some of his pent up energy.
"Well Mac, 'The Hun' said no. I swear that lady has perfected the verbal 'kick in the nuts'. So, I guess we are back to playing the world's worst game of thumb wrestling."
Jack chuckled at his own witty commentary and stopped his drumming long enough to look over at his partner.
As per usual, Mac remained unresponsive.
"You might be off the ventilator now, but I'm gonna' need you to start being more supportive of all my funny jokes man. I feel like a stand-up comedian in mortuary."
Jack stretched his arms high allowing his newly healed mid-section to expand a little.
"Honestly, I never thought that I would say this, but I am really itchin' to get back to work... And YOU... you need to whip and wake-up before Ol' Jack really loses it. You are making me sweat more than a blind priest trying to find the exit in a cat house with all this cold shoulder treatment. My heart isn't gonna be able to take this much more Bud."
The older man turned back towards the open space of the room.
It was quiet.
Jack shifted in his chair suddenly getting very uncomfortable.
He had started to loath the quiet. That was when darker thoughts could work their way up to the surface- Thoughts about Mac not surviving this in the end, thoughts about how cold Jack's life would become if that happened, thoughts about how cold Jack himself might become.
Jack could feel a chill start to creep into his bones and he immediately fought to put the breaks on the train wreck of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. He absolutely refused to succumb to that darkness again. If not for his own sorry soul, then for Mac's. He liked to think that the kid could feel his presence and Jack wanted it to be a strong, steadying presence. Not one of a broken man.
In order to stay ahead of those demons, Jack had discovered that he needed to be in perpetual motion- constantly reading, talking, pacing, singing, fidgeting, joking around, fussing over Mac, etc. He just needed constant noise at all times in order to not fall prey to the oppressive silence.
He would bring down the moon if he thought it would help Mac, so keeping control of his emotions was just a drop in the bucket.
This should be easy. What did he need now?
Motion.
Jack vigorously rubbed his hands together and looked back over at the blonde with renewed determination.
"Damn Bud….I ain't gonna lie, you're starting to look a little scruffy again. How about I sweet talk that pretty little day-shift nurse into rustlin' us up another shaving kit? We gotta keep you looking suave for your ever growing little 12th Floor Fan Club. You, my friend, are the only guy that I know that can get dates while in a coma."
Jack snorted, amused, but there it was again.
The emptiness that seemed to always lurk in his periphery.
All he wanted was to hear Mac's voice.
::There was a soft tap::
Jack closed his eyes and tried to imagine what he would do if things were back to normal. He smiled to himself.
The absolute first thing he would do was crush Mac in the biggest bear hug he could possibly manage. They were always tussling around and Jack missed the physical contact.
Second thing on the list would be to grab a couple of beers and just sit with his friend by the fire pit in L.A. for hours...maybe even days. Jack loved their little porch powows. Half the time they wouldn't even talk. They'd just sit there enjoying the other's company.
::Tip, tap, tap, tap::
-J-
That was one of his favorite things about Mac. His ability to communicate through silence. Not like this cold silence of the hospital, but a warm silence. Dalton was admittedly the more talkative of the two, but sometimes the younger man's quiet presence said more by volumes. Mac had always been there for Jack even in the roughest of times- words or no words.
::Tip, tap::
-A-
Jack always liked to think that he took care of Mac, but if he was being totally honest with himself, the reverse was equally true. Damn, he really missed his friend.
::Tap, tip, tap, tip...Tap, tip, tap::
-CK-
Jack paused in his ruminations, a bit confused- Morse code?
Was he hearing Morse code?
The older agent sat up and glanced around the room trying to determine if this was it. The moment he truly started to lose his marbles.
::Tip, tip, tip, tip...Tip, tip::
-HI-
Hi? What the hell...
Confusion was quickly replace by excited realization as the older man dared a look in his partner's direction.
Two blue and slightly mischievous eyes were locked onto his, watching his every move.
Jack bolted up from his chair only to gently lay a hand over Mac's heart as if the young man might break in two at any moment
With a grin as big as Texas he drawled out, "Well 'Hi' back at ya' kid. It's been awhile."
Mac gave a weak smile.
The former Delta couldn't stop the tears from freely running down his face as he used his other hand to brush back Mac's unruly hair.
Every fiber of Jack's being was suddenly alive again.
Mac had made it.
They both had made it.
The quiet be damned.
Thanks for reading! To be continued...