Mac had gotten up early, finished his disappointing breakfast, grouched at a couple of nurses about wanting to leave, then when that didn't work, he flirted with one.
After he'd gotten a little bit of his way, he got dressed and had a second coffee by the time Jack peeled his eyes open the following morning. Jack was still hurting a fair bit, but he couldn't quite help smiling in spite of it as he watched Mac awkwardly pace the room on crutches.
Mac overbalanced and cursed softly as he accidentally touched the foot on his injured leg to the floor. "I seriously hate crutches," he groused.
"You could sit down, ya know, bud. Just because you conned that nurse who's been makin' eyes at you into getting your clothes outta your gym locker … and takin' out that IV port, which may or may not get her in trouble, I might add …
"It's not gonna get her in trouble," he interrupted. "Letting me do it myself, on the other hand …"
Jack went on like Mac hadn't spoken. "It don't really mean squat. Nobody official actually said you're goin' anywhere yet."
Mac tossed him a glare. "Oh, I'm going. And I'm getting tired of waiting."
Mac looked at the clock he'd conned the very same cute nurse into bringing him from the lab yesterday. He grinned a little when he thought about how he'd gotten what he wanted this morning, too. Of course, an ability to flirt wasn't new to Mac. Knowing what the hell to do once you had a girl's interest was a slightly different story.. He was still on shaky ground there, but he thought he was improving those particular people skills.
He was pretty sure that was one of the things you just had to keep trying to figure out on your own. Otherwise he'd ask Jack. Jack seemed to have pleasant feminine company whenever he wanted it. Right now Mac would settle for any company not in scrubs. He sighed. Then he resumed his hobbling laps around the room.
"If you're leaving anyway, what's your hurry? Call your ride already?"
"Ride? I'm driving my Jeep home. It's been parked here for over a week."
Jack frowned at him. "For one thing, your right leg had a bullet take a big ole chunk out of it a couple evenings ago, which probably means you shouldn't drive with it. And for another, even if it wasn't your bum leg thatcha need, you can't drive full of pain meds."
Mac rolled his eyes. "For one thing," he mimicked, "nobody has said I can't drive with this leg, and for another I haven't taken more than Tylenol since late yesterday because I figured somebody would use that as an excuse to keep me here. I haven't even had any of that this morning."
Mac was pretty clearly hurting, although he was doing a decent job keeping it under wraps. Jack sighed a little at Mac's dogged refusal to just admit to any weakness. "I feel like people hafta keep saying this, and I'm gonna go ahead and point out how weird … and familiar … it is, but you got shot, you know."
Mac stopped and looked at him with an elaborate purposeful eye roll. "Gee, Jack, I forgot all about that."
Jack shifted a little to better look Mac in the eye and wound up grimacing in pain instead, closing his eyes for a minute. He thought he'd been hurt before. Hell, he'd spent most of his life throwing his body into every kind of physical abuse that presented itself, right up from getting chewed out by his coach the first day of peewee football because tackling was supposed to be against the rules, on through the Army, the CIA, and now this. But nothing he'd been through before quite prepared him for this kind of pain. He'd heard people say back injuries were the worst. Now he believed it.
Mac must've noticed the face he'd been making because when Jack opened his eyes again, Mac was standing next to him, leaning on his crutches, looking down with an expression of intense concern. "You want me to get somebody, Jack?"
Jack shook his head. "They're already giving me as much as I'll take, pain management-wise, kid. I've been overmedicated once or twice before, and I'm not dealing with that again."
Mac's face creased into an expression that was almost a frown, but was too contemplative to quite get there. "How often does stuff like this happen to you, Jack?"
Jack wanted to be honest, sure. But he also didn't want to scare the kid off. Thornton seemed very pleased that Mac was in the know now, and had come to talk to him about it last night while Mac was off getting some sort of imaging test that he'd only grumpily agreed to because the tech who showed up to take him said letting them get the scan the doc wanted was his fastest ticket to getting cut loose. Assuming everything looked okay, the tech had added under his breath.
Thornton gave Jack permission to read Mac in. Within reason, she'd said. Now, what the hell does that mean? he'd asked. She'd given him that enigmatic smile she so often wore that told him she knew God's own secrets, and said, Let's just get him started, Jack. You know he'll be brilliant at this. Like he's always been at anything that can hold his attention. The problem with Angus MacGyver is holding his attention. Baby steps.
Thing was, Jack didn't want to bullshit the kid, either. Jack had gotten to walk into this with all the cards on the table, and he wanted Mac to have the same opportunity. He also didn't want to get fired, since he'd very narrowly avoided being in trouble this go round. He'd be honest, but keep it to just answering direct questions for now. "Not like every day or anything, kid. But, you know, often enough."
Mac was about to ask something else. Jack could tell from his expression. But the doctor walked in, accompanied by Patricia Thornton. "Morning, guys," Dr. Anderson greeted, unable to keep from smiling at little at Mac's clearly communicated let's-get-this-show-on-the-road wardrobe, expression, and demeanor. "Going somewhere this morning, Mac?"
"Home," he said in a tone that wasn't exactly a challenge, but came damned close. "Just waiting on my walking papers, Doc. The cable in this place sucks." He flashed a charming smile at the doctor and Thornton.
Anderson shook his head, amused in spite of himself. "Since it was clear you weren't to be deterred, Rachel said she already went over instructions with you. Is that right?"
"Yes, sir. Like I said, just waiting for the greenlight from you to get out of here."
Jack helpfully supplied, "And him waiting shows an awful lot of personal growth since I met the kid, so, ya know, give 'im some credit."
"That's not even … shut up," Mac sputtered at Jack and rolled his eyes. Pretending Jack hadn't spoken, Mac looked back at Anderson. "So? Am I good?"
The doctor agreed, albeit a little reluctantly. Reluctant doctor or not, Mac's grin lit up the whole room. Then he swore under his breath.
"Damn. My keys are at Jack's so …"
Thornton and the doctor both shook their heads, but Anderson was the one who spoke. "I'm not really comfortable with you driving just yet anyway, Mac."
Mac sighed, but thought for a minute. "If I called a friend to come and get me, would that be a massive security breach or something?"
"You want to call Wilt Bozer, a civilian, to come pick you up from the infirmary at DXS where you just finished being treated for a bullet wound?" Patricia asked sternly, with a sharp raise of one eyebrow.
"No, I want to call Wilt Bozer, my friend and roommate, who incidentally represents the logical choice if I need a ride somewhere, to come pick me up from the X-Com infirmary, where I've been because of the carjacking you guys sold to the cops. It's in the local police blotter. Boze follows those for movie ideas. I was gonna tell him I twisted my bad knee because I decided to get my old longboard out. You guys are the ones who made it so I had to admit to a bullet graze."
Mac looked down for a minute, then back up.
"Thanks a lot for that by the way. He's been blowing up my phone every hour on the hour for the last day and a half," he said sarcastically, but with a slight grin. Honestly he thought that made him look good. He wanted them to know the information being out there was on them, and he was the one who'd been doing damage control.
Thornton gave him a thoughtful once over. "I'll have someone retrieve your key and drive you and your Jeep home. No need to trouble Mr. Bozer. That way I'll be certain you actually go directly home, following Dr. Anderson's orders."
Mac huffed a sigh, but decided not to argue. Since he'd technically been home sick and was supposedly resting on doctor's orders when he'd blown the lid off the Mazari dirty bomb situation he supposed that was fair. "Yes, ma'am."
Knowing he wasn't exactly there yet, but pretty dedicated to not being forgotten in the getting the hell out of here conversation, Jack interjected, "When can I get somebody to drive me home?" Then he added with a wink, "Tracy up in accounting has offered a few times before when I was stuck here, and I can't say I'd be against taking her up on it."
Thornton laughed lightly. "Only you could be worried about who your going to hit on next, with a broken back and a no strenuous activity directive on your chart that's unlikely to go away for months."
"Jack's never been afraid of playing the sympathy card," Mac snickered. "Remember Lieutenant … what was her name … Myers?"
"Trina, yeah. Trina Myers. I maybe limped around a little more than that strain called for, but hey," Jack grinned, "She was a nurse so she had to know I was playin' it up. Besides you got her friend's undivided attention for a minute."
"Which I very much appreciated at the time," Mac grinned. "So about that ride home?" he prompted, returning the subject to his primary area of interest.
"I've already sent the orders on my tablet, Mac. Maybe you could sit down for a few minutes while you wait."
Under normal circumstances that would have come across as a question or an offer. Mac didn't mistake it for either, hearing the order in her tone very clearly. It raised his hackles a bit, but he sat, in the chair next to Jack's bed, rather than the bed that had been his. He was done with that bed, thank you very much, and he wanted that clear to everyone in the room.
Not to be deterred either, Jack said, "Yeah, and my ride home? How about we talk about that one, too?"
Anderson contemplated the agent for a moment. "If you didn't live alone, Jack, I'd be comfortable letting you go later today or early tomorrow, but …"
"He can stay with me and Boze," Mac interrupted. Jack hated being hurt worse than anyone Mac knew, flirting with nurses as a preference notwithstanding. And the way Jack's face immediately fell at the 'if you didn't live alone' made him want to help.
"Not offering to stay with Agent Dalton this time, Mac?" Thornton asked.
Mac's brain skated over the term 'agent' for the moment. "Well, ma'am, Bozer is pretty worried about me and he wants me home as soon as I can be. And he and Jack get along like family already, so I know he won't mind looking after Jack, too, and …" Mac trailed off.
"And what?" Thornton prompted.
"And our place is all on one floor, ma'am. I know Jack probably won't be able to do stairs for a while and … Well, frankly ma'am, not to complain, but just the idea of getting in and out of the Jeep this morning makes me not all that happy. Jack's place is a fourth floor walk-up.."
Seemingly satisfied that Mac was at least admitting to being less than superhuman at the moment, mostly because it meant he was unlikely to walk out and get himself immediately in more trouble, Thornton nodded. "I think that's a very good idea. And it will give you time to read the materials I'm having my assistant prepare for you and ask Jack any questions you might have about the organization and my vision for the role you can fill in it."
As though that was all she really came for, Thornton turned and left without even saying goodbye. Anderson shook his head like he was used to it, then looked at both of his patients more critically. "Now that we've established what work says about your plans, how about we talk about the medical stuff neither of you want to hear?"