Mac's sleep was frequently disturbed and, as a result, often not terribly restful, but, for a change, this time it was by design.
Not wanting to risk just racking out for half a day again and getting dehydrated, he knew when they got home that he needed a plan. When Jack left the room to change for bed, after getting Mac several pillows, a bunch of blankets including one his Nana had knit for him specially, and putting an entire package of crackers and a six pack of Gatorade on ice in addition to the one he set in easy reach with a straw in it on the coffee table, Mac lay there trying to figure something out.
His eureka moment came when he remembered the very nice running/fitness watch Penny Parker had gotten him as a 'welcome home I'm glad you didn't get killed because you were dumb and joined the Army' present (her words from the accompanying card) had a vibrating silent alarm.
He was happy he was still wearing it because he didn't have the energy to go get anything. Just changing and taking care of his nightly bathroom routine had felt like running a marathon wearing wet fatigues and a full pack. He set it for every two hours.
That ought to do it, he thought, letting his eyes close, feeling like weights were attached to his lids.
He was just about asleep when he jolted back to semi-lucidness.
What if it didn't wake him up and he just slept for too long and got dehydrated again that way? He had no interest in another hours-long stint in the infirmary, especially since letting himself go that far again would put Jack in full Overwatch mode. He wouldn't take no for an answer if Mac woke up in the same shape again. That would mean he'd have no idea what staff he might have to put up with at work, and Foster and any nurse in cahoots with him were on Mac's permanent shit list.
He blearily reached out and grabbed the open Gatorade and took as long a drink as he could stand. He managed to put it back without spilling it or opening his eyes.
He woke for most of his frequent alarms and drank several of the sports drinks by the time Jack woke him the following so they could both head back to the infirmary, where he was relieved to be told he was responding well to the medicine he'd been given.
His plan continued to work for a while. Finally though, on the afternoon of the third day, Jack noticed the alarm after Mac had dozed off, and asked the one question Mac had hoped to avoid.
Well, first he'd just asked about the alarm. Then he'd asked how often Mac had been disturbing his doctor-prescribed rest. After Mac answered both of those questions, looking at the backs of his hands like a kid caught cheating on a spelling test, Jack got up from his seat on the other side of the coffee table.
Sitting down next to Mac, Jack looked a little hurt and asked, "Why are you always so determined to do everything for yourself, bud? I told ya I was gonna take care of you just like you did for me. Didn't you trust me to do that?"
Mac looked at him, then away. "You have been taking care of me, pal. Such good care it's been driving me a little crazy. But I know that's how you are." He looked back and gave Jack a small smile, but Jack didn't immediately return it. Mac tried again. "You know I trust you, Jack. With my life, man. Doesn't giving you my back while you had a sniper rifle count?"
Both of Jack's eyebrows climbed, not in annoyance but it an expression that said he was a whisker away from amusement at Mac's attempt at a bullshit answer. Guilt Jack Wyatt Dalton into shutting up? Maybe his Nana could do it, but not some skinny kid with a silly hamburger name.
Instead of saying so though, he just shrugged and said, "Counts for somethin'." He waited a beat. "But you know that's not what I'm talkin' about, bud."
For a brief moment Mac thought he knew exactly how to end the conversation amicably. He put on his best sheepish, half embarrassed smirk. It was the one he'd always used on Bozer and his folks when they fussed over him when he and Boze were kids.
"The alarm thing … it's dumb," he said. He sounded exactly the right amount of embarrassed, he thought.
"Yeah? Well, why doncha tell me about it anyway. I'm the king of dumb moves in this friendship, kid."
Jack still sounded concerned, but he no longer sounded hurt. His play was working pretty well, Mac thought. "When we first got back you were still technically out sick … and I didn't want to bother you or …"
"You are never a bother, kid. And if I wasn't okay to look out for you I wouldn't have offered. You know that."
Mac's mouth twisted in an actual genuine grin now. "You and I both know that's not true. I don't want to bring up having to drop you up in Helmond again, but, you're making it tough, pal."
Jack finally smiled a little. "Knock that shit off, you brat." He shook his head but his expression was fond. "But even if you were actually worried about how I was doing … and I'm not sayin' I'm buyin' it … it doesn't explain what you were doing or why you really felt the need."
Mac squirmed under Jack's gaze and it was definitely not a put on. He'd really thought Jack would drop it after he mentioned the day he'd gotten Jack out of a flat out panic attack by dropping him like a sack of crap outside a little village in northern Afghanistan. He saw one possible way out.
"Look, I just felt so bad and so warm … and it was late … I mean I guess it wasn't, but we were both tired. I got worried I'd sleep right through without drinking and …" he paused strategically. "I didn't want to wind up needing an IV again so I just set the alarm … and it was working so well I just stayed with it." He shrugged.
Jack was starting to smell a rat. "And?" he prompted.
"I didn't want to say anything … I felt kind of like a wuss being worried about it," he shrugged again. "Telling the guy you decked over panicking about a a really big needle … and I know I'm sorry I'll stop mentioning it … that you're in a twist over a little tiny … like needles don't usually bother me much …"
"Oh really?" Jack said, at once sounding skeptical of Mac's answer and embarrassed over the memory Mac had subtlety brought up several times.
Mac looked at Jack and shrugged with another sheepish smile. "I mean, nobody likes them, Jack. Just most of us don't turn into … well, into you ... when faced with the prospect."
Mac was pretty sure that did it when Jack blushed a little. Then Jack cocked an eyebrow. "I'll buy that you really didn't want to end up back on an IV, because A) that first nurse riddled you with holes, and B) 'don't bother' you is probably an overstatement."
Mac tried interrupting. "You've never said why they freak you out so much. Did you date a nurse and it ended badly or something and you're holding a grudge against the tools of her trade?" he teased.
Jack wasn't exactly proud of some of his quirky fears, like he didn't advertise that black cats actually gave him the shivers, but being afraid of needles was so common that he'd never once had a medical professional so much as comment on it beyond trying to help him relax a little. And it was the perfect opening to move this talk along and get at what was really eating Mac that had him building walls again all of a sudden. He gave a self deprecating grinning shrug.
"Nah man, I've always been afraid of 'em. Don't you have anything like that that you just can't explain, but you're afraid of it?"
Mac's eyes slid away from Jack's for a second, then quickly back again. He considered denying it then he realized Jack would just call him on it and use it as a way to point out that he was being defensive. It had happened before. "You know I do."
Jack nodded and patted Mac on the shoulder. "Yes I do. Which you've never had a problem just talking about with me." He heard Mac pull in a breath and hold it. "So why clam up about something you're afraid of now? And I don't mean you suddenly pretending to be actually afraid of much of anything physical other than being up off the ground." Mac let out the breath slowly. "So you wanted to avoid the infirmary again."
"Yes," Mac said, sounding relieved. The conversation was getting back on track.
"But I don't think you were necessarily worried enough about an IV needle or anything else that might happen at the company infirmary that you made such a weird decision, kid." Jack's eyes bored into Mac's. "I think this is more about what you told me before we ever set foot in the infirmary."
Mac swallowed hard and he and Jack both heard the click of it. He stalled by reaching for his ginger ale, his beverage of choice since he'd gotten up for the day. "Sure, you're probably right."
Jack shook his head, clenching his jaw. He was trying not to get annoyed, but he'd worked so hard to ever get Mac to trust him at all, it did hurt a little more than he'd expected it to when he saw Mac's old walls start to go back up. Agreeing with whatever he said was classic Carl's Junior from early days. "I don't need you to tell me I'm right. I definitely know it already."
Another classic move was the eye roll. But Mac stayed quiet.
"I think we talked about your parents, and I think the way Foster treated you reminded you of your dad and I know you don't like to talk about any of that stuff. And you were still sick and miserable and maybe I also kinda did drag you into the infirmary too and that probably didn't help. So you just decided to deal with everything you needed on your own so nobody would remind you of it again, either by taking care of you or letting you down and not."
Mac gave a one shouldered shrug. "Yeah, I guess. Maybe."
Jack gave his shoulder a squeeze. "You never told him off you said. Maybe you oughta get it off your chest and yell at him, then you'll feel better and stop …"
"Couldn't if I wanted to, Jack. He left and I don't know how to reach him. I haven't heard from him in years."
Jack's stomach dropped. Wow. He'd suspected something like that but he'd never really pushed and Mac definitely didn't offer. He knew Mac had lived with his grandfather a little, knew Mac's dad hadn't been around much. "Jesus, kid, I'm so sorry. Years, huh?" Mac just nodded. "I wish this hadn't brought all that up for you, Mac."
Mac shrugged again, like it didn't matter, but what came out of his mouth was, "Me too." He puffed out a long sigh. "I got used to taking care of myself Jack. And I got a lot of practice at it. You and Boze … I trust you. I do. But sometimes all that practice is just a stronger habit." He sighed a second time. "I'm working on it."
Jack nodded. "I can see that, kid. That's why I mentioned it."
Mac yawned hugely. "So if I took another nap would you wake me up in a couple hours so I can …"
"Absolutely, kid. Like I've been tellin' you for a while now, I got your back. Even when you're not using' the big ole Einstein melon of yours so good."
Mac felt something about himself relax just a little. "Thanks, Jack."