Jack woke early the next morning. He knew before he even rolled over onto his side that he was alone in the house. It was the unnatural quiet only a deserted place ever was. And God knew he'd been in enough of them to know that peculiar silent sound.
He also knew that it hadn't been light out for very long. Didn't seem to matter how late he stayed up, if he was acclimated to local time, his eyes popped open by 5:30.
He got up and took a quick tour around the cabin, finding his first impression was correct. Mac wasn't home. Or if he was, he was in the locked basement. Jack didn't think anyone was down there though. He looked out into the driveway. Mac's grandfather's truck was parked right where Mac had pulled it up last night.
Jack looked around a little more. There was a pot of coffee on the counter, but it was mostly cooled off. He grumbled to himself a little. No note, nothing. He headed back to the guest room after washing down one of the painkillers the doc had kindly prescribed for his burns last night with tepid black coffee. He briefly considered showering and then realized it would mean changing the bandages on his crispy hand and decided to just do his best to wash up in the sink and get dressed.
After a longer and more painful process than Jack was expecting (which he blamed on the lack of properly hot coffee, otherwise he'd have been anticipating the suck level) he left the guest room to find the house still empty. Jack frowned. He was reasonably certain he knew where Mac left the keys to the truck, but he was pretty sure driving it with his bum hand would be agony, and he thought if he took off looking for Mac, like he might have back in their Army days if the kid wasn't where he expected him, Mac would probably be furious.
Instead, he went back into the kitchen and poured a second cup of coffee, this time popping it into the microwave, realizing too late that Mac must have done something to the device because his coffee was boiling after about twenty seconds. Not wanting to risk more burns, he just turned the machine off, left the cup there, and poured himself the dregs from the pot.
He was just sitting down at the kitchen table to drink his cup of disappointment when Mac came in through the backdoor, dressed in workout clothes clothes and drenched from what was clearly a hard run. He smiled brightly at Jack. "Morning!"
"Mornin', kid." Jack replied, grimacing as he took a sip of the cold coffee. It wasn't the first time he'd ever been let by having to drink cold coffee. Hell, he'd eaten the freeze dried stuff out of a packet and swallowed it with the dregs of canteen water that tasted more like purification tablets than anything else and been grateful for it. There was just something about being in a perfectly normal civilian situation that made bad coffee extra disappointing. "Didn't wanna wait for ole Jack to go for a run with ya, I see. Afraid I can kick your ass now that you've been back in civvies for so long."
Mac finished downing the water he'd retrieved from the fridge. Mac snickered and shook his head. "Not even in your wildest dreams, pal. Besides, I don't want to see you cry."
"Is that your way of calling me a sore loser?" Jack said, drinking more of the terrible cold coffee.
Mac contemplated Jack for a minute. Then he turned and started putting together a fresh pot of coffee. Jack hated cold coffee, but Mac had given up on sleep around three.
As Mac went through the motions of setting up the coffee maker to produce something Jack would find acceptable, he glanced over his shoulder at his partner. "It's my way of reminding you that elevating your pulse with an injury like that is a surefire way to be miserable. Nobody needs to count their heart rate because pain just informs them how fast it's going. You know I'm speaking from experience … which if the shoe was on the other foot, you'd be dying to remind me of."
Mac turned to hit start on the coffee maker, more to hide his smirk at Jack's fleeting sheepish expression that anything else. When he turned back, Jack was looking over his bandaged hand with a frown. "Probably right. Have a feeling the boss ain't gonna be happy I dumbassed myself into needing a few more days off than I planned."
Mac snickered. He stepped toward the table and winced slightly. "Hey, I'll be back in a few. I need to go walk a little more." Jack frowned. Mac explained, "Calf's cramped up. I didn't cool down enough and I don't want to pay for it later."
"How far did you pound the pavement this morning?" Jack asked, wondering just how far off the kid's fitness had fallen since coming home. Too far and he'd definitely have to time mentioning DXS a little further out than Patricia might care for.
"About thirteen miles, I think it is …" Mac frowned, trying to call up the map in his head.
"Thirteen miles! Jesus, dude, it's not even six thirty in the morning. What the hell are you running that far in what had to have mostly been the dark for?" Jack was vaguely incredulous. Running was, to his way of thinking a combination of conditioning and punishment, and the only way a civilian would put in that kind of distance was if they were mildly off their rocker.
Mac laughed, dropping into a stretch he thought might help, since just heading back out the door without answering would be the kind of rude he just wasn't programed for. "I went and got your rental car and returned it for you. I just did the key drop thing and ran back. Needed to get the miles in today anyway and you can't drive so …"
"You ran from town?"
Mac recognized that tone and felt his hackles go up a little. "Yeah. I'm training for a charity half in a couple weeks and I'm trying to PR … so I figured I'd just get my long run in and take care of your car at the same time."
"From town that takes twenty minutes to drive to. And it's not seven a.m."
"It takes twenty minutes to drive because it's all back roads. And I killed my last half PR this morning. I'm pretty sure I'm going to hit sub-ninety minutes. I hit an hour forty this morning and …"
Jack mentally calcluated the amount of time it would have taken to hike out to his car, drive it to town and then hit a personal record half marathon time and get back here to make him coffee. He gave Mac the sort of stern almost annoyed, but more concerned look that he always hid behind a slight smile. "You even go to bed last night, Mac?"
Mac drew himself up out of his stretch. One corner of his mouth quirked up, but Jack could read that it was irritation rather than a half smile. "Jack that's …"
He paused and sat down across from the older man. This time he managed to pull his expression into an agreeable sort of smile, like he thought Jack readopting his slight hovering tendencies that all guys on overwatch seemed to have for their assignments was just a funny old habit.
"Exactly none of your business, pal."
Jack looked slightly taken aback which almost made Mac laugh. After the massive boundary violation of showing up here without calling … okay, he'd called, but it hadn't been answered and the guy should have known Mac well enough after everything they'd been through together to know that meant he didn't want company … say nothing of just watching him for days … which Mac couldn't even begin to unpack … He wasn't about to let Jack pick up those old habits again.
Mac firmly told himself that he preferred being on his own. He definitely preferred not having to account to someone about his actions. And he didn't want to just cut Jack out of his life. He was a friend. One of the few Mac knew without a doubt really gave a damn about it.
But he had gotten by just fine without parents, thank you very much, and he'd enjoyed being an only child … if you didn't count Bozer … And he did, but that was easy because they'd chosen that relationship at a time when they'd both needed each other desperately. And Boze could go overprotective sibling in a heartbeat, but he'd known Mac well enough to know when to back off. Like Mac hadn't heard from Bozer in weeks. He frowned a little at that thought. He really should call him, see how the whole try out film school summer program thing was going … Jack was just giving him a hard look.
"I don't wanna be rude or piss you off, man, but I'm gonna tell you the same thing I told Miles. If I wanted a babysitter, I'd have reenlisted and gotten myself a new overwatch. Okay?"
The coffee maker beeped then, signaling a fresh pot and Jack got up with slow measured movements, concealing (he hoped) that he actually was kind of pissed off. He just poured himself a cup as best he could more or less one handed. Then he asked neutrally, "You want a cup?"
It was clearly killing him not to say more than that, Mac thought. He appreciated the effort. "Nah, man, I'm good, but thanks."
Jack sat back down. He read the thanks as having a double meaning that included not just the coffee but also the backing off. Still, some things needed saying. "I'm sorry I butted in here, bud …"
"But?" Mac asked, with a wry twist of his lips.
"But you've got friends who are worried about you bein' out here in the middle of God's Half Acre all on your own, not doin' anything productive with that ginormous brain of yours, and …"
Mac made a snap decision then. "Well, you guys will be thrilled to know that I'm working on packing this place up and making the move to the place in LA. It needs work, but it's paid off, and Boze and Penny … you remember those guys?" Jack just nodded. He'd met Bozer via video chat the same way he'd met Miles. Mac friend Penny had given him the silent treatment while he was in the Army, but apparently they were back on speaking terms. "Well, they're living in LA and … I know they wouldn't exactly be mad if we were all neighbors. In fact, Boze and I are probably gonna be roomates."
From the way Jack's face split into a grin, Mac was pretty sure he'd sold the idea as a plan that he'd had for more than fifteen seconds. "That's great, man. I mean, unless you'd had me being your neighbor too, because you know I'm in LA now, and I don't know if I can resist the urge to check up on my pet bomb nerd."
Mac wasn't exactly sure how he felt about moving back to where anyone knew him well, but it would solve his immediate problem of Miles and Jack conspiring to freaking supervise him without his consent. He could deal with LA problems in LA, he reasoned. He grinned at Jack. "There's even a really great back deck from which we could char cow. Or you know, goat, if we get feeling nostalgic for our time at the FOB."
Jack nodded, thinking that Mac had an 'up to something' look about him, but that this was as good as he was going to get.
"That sounds great, kid."