~*~CHAPTER TWO~*~
It wasn't a large team, but it was big enough. Still, Jack was in papa bear mode, so it leveled the playing field. Somewhat. Bozer was holding his own, too. It became clear quickly that they were there for MacGyver, and that they wanted him alive. He must have either seen something, or was the reason the warehouse had blown up, along with their stash of weapons.
Jack landed a punch that sent one of the bastards sprawling across the dusty, wooden floor, then viciously pulled another away from where he had nearly grabbed an oblivious MacGyver off the bed. That one didn't go down as easily, but Jack was nothing if not determined.
He shot another as Bozer broke a chair over one's head.
MacGyver's startled cry spun Jack around, and he was immediately hit square in the face. Bozer cried out his name along with MacGyver's before he even hit the floor. Pain stole Jack's vision, but he managed to stay conscious. There were sounds of struggles around him. "Mac!" he called into the fray as he tried to roll onto his knees through the dizziness.
"They–" Bozer grunted, sounding strained. "They got him!"
Jack's vision cleared just in time to see MacGyver grab a fistful of soot from the fireplace and throw it into the face of the man he was wrestling with on the floor. The much larger man stumbled backwards, frantically wiping at his eyes. Jack took the opportunity to grab him by the collar and ram his head into the wall. He fell to the ground just as the guy Bozer was fighting did.
They both spun around, looking for more bad guys.
"We get 'em all?"
"Get the doors, Boze." Jack bent over and retrieved the gun he'd lost in the scuffle. "You okay, Mac?" He called over to where his boy had tucked himself into the corner. Placing his gun on an old, rickety, wooden table, Jack pulled a few zip ties from one of the unconscious men on the floor and started to secure them, eyes darting eagerly over to his partner every few seconds. That tussle couldn't have done him any good. "Mac?"
"Doors are barricaded again."
"All right, nice job, Boze."
"Comms are down. Again."
Jack sighed. "All right. Keep watch." Grabbing his gun, he walked over and placed it on the windowsill next to MacGyver. "Mac?" he called softly, kneeling next to him. "You all right, bud?" He looked him over for fresh injuries, relieved not to see any—though his side must have started bleeding again. There was a dark, red stain on the gray hoodie Jack had put on him. He also appeared to have thrown up what little water they had gotten into him. Jack cursed under his breath, though he realized it could have been a lot worse.
Curled up against the wall, fist pressed against the side of his head, MacGyver had his eyes squeezed shut. He was shaking hard, and his breathing was shallow and strained—but thankfully not critically so.
"Mac?"
He flinched.
"Hey, easy, hoss, you're safe now. Just your favorite boys here." Jack couldn't imagine how scared and confused he must be—especially after being woken up the way that he was in the state that he was in. "Let's slow that breathing down, huh?"
Slowly, so not to startle him, Jack slid his hand over the one MacGyver had fisted just above his head wound. "You hit your head on an op, Mac." MacGyver let him pull his hand away, but the tension in his body remained. "We're stuck here in this cabin waiting for exfil until the storm passes," Jack explained again, keeping his voice low and calm while pulling MacGyver's hand in against his chest, hoping he'd automatically copy his breathing. "Bad guys wanna know what you know, but Boze and I, we're here, all right. We're not gonna let them get you." Although they damn near just had.
Jack took a slow and steady breath, glad to see MacGyver's breathing improving, though he was still shaking, and hadn't opened his eyes. Jack couldn't imagine how horrible he must be feeling, and in every way. "Mac? Mind if I get you somewhere more comfortable, bud?" He also needed to check the wound on his side.
Swallowing hard, MacGyver reached his other hand out towards Jack.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm here. I got you."
He passed out just as Jack was pulling him into his arms.
EPILOGUE
Jack let himself in and placed the small bag of groceries on the kitchen island. The tree was lit, Christmas music played softly, and whatever Bozer was cooking made Jack's stomach rumble impatiently.
"Perfect. Just what I need." Bozer rubbed his hands together. "Thanks, Jack."
"No problem. He still in bed?" Jack hooked a thumb over his shoulder towards the bedroom.
"Yeah, I thought I'd let you get him up while I finish dinner."
"Sounds good." Jack took off his jacket. "Meds?"
Bozer was already unpacking the groceries. "On the nightstand. I set some water out."
Nodding, Jack made his way back to MacGyver's bedroom. He'd only been away from him for very short intervals since they'd been rescued, but he struggled with it every time. It had been a close one. Too close.
Backup had come just on the cusp of another attempt to abduct MacGyver. After a brief firefight between Phoenix agents and the illegal arms dealers, MacGyver was assessed by medics and quickly lifted into a Medivac chopper.
Then Jack held his breath for sixteen hours while MacGyver underwent emergency surgery to repair a small bleed in his brain.
It was too close.
The tightness in Jack's chest eased as soon as he saw him. Super spies shouldn't be able to look that adorable and young, but there, his wunderkind was. Curled on his side under a pile of blankets, loose fist tucked under his chin, hair sticking up every-which-way from under the bandages... It was ridiculous. Jack grinned.
Coughing deeply, MacGyver hunkered further down under the blankets, and Jack took that as his cue. Walking into the room, he sat on the edge of the mattress and grabbed MacGyver's medications off the nightstand.
MacGyver pulled the bed sheets up over his head.
"You do know that's not an Invisibility Cloak, don't you?"
"What time is it?" The question came muffled from the other side of the blanket.
"Just about Dinner o' clock, my man. I'm surprised I didn't find you already out on the deck with your toes practically cookin' in the firepit." Again. Jack shook the appropriate dosage out into his palm for each pill.
MacGyver lowered the blankets to just under his eyes. "Bozer put baby locks on all the doors," he complained, voice hoarse from everything he'd been through. "And he's keeping me drugged." He looked warily at the pills Jack had just measured out and placed on the nightstand.
Jack snorted. "These are just antibiotics. Promise. I'll talk to the doc about lowering the dosage of your other pills." He slid a hand under MacGyver and carefully helped him into a seated position, legs over the edge of the bed. It was hard to get the kid moving.
When MacGyver swayed, Jack placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him. "You dizzy?"
"Mmm no, just tired. Still. Can't get warm." He tried to curl back up under the blankets, but Jack deftly moved him back to where he had him.
"You keep poutin' like that, chief, and your face'll get stuck that way."
"Jack." If ever a word could sound like an eye roll.
Smirking, Jack quickly grabbed sweatpants and a sweatshirt from MacGyver's dresser drawer. "Arms up," was the only warning he gave before he slid the soft material over MacGyver's head. After helping him get dressed, Jack sat on the bed next to him.
"Why am I so weak?" MacGyver asked, leaning on him heavily and still looking half asleep.
Jack hesitated. "You tell me, hoss."
MacGyver rubbed a hand down his face as he sorted through what he knew. "Hit my head."
"When?"
"On a mission."
"And?"
MacGyver sighed, eyes drifting close. "Surgery."
Relieved, Jack nodded. "Brain surgery aint' nothin' to sneeze at, bud." He reached for the water and pills. "You gotta give yourself time to heal."
"I'm okay, though?"
Looking down at him, heart full, Jack smiled. "Yeah, bud, you're okay." Not all with it, but that was mostly thanks to the medications he was on and just waking up. As for the rest, he should regain his strength and be less grumpy, and more clearheaded–more Mac, as he healed.
He never did remember what had happened in that warehouse. In fact, he didn't remember anything from a week before the mission, up until a few days after waking up in the hospital, and the doctors warned that he likely never would. Phoenix was able to track down and apprehend everyone believed to have been involved in the arms deal and attempted abduction of MacGyver, so Jack wasn't worried too much about it. The only thing he planned on worrying about over the next few weeks was getting his boy healthy again.
Handing him his pills, "You want eye drops, or a breathing treatment first?" It was a miracle he had escaped pneumonia, and Jack was determined to keep it that way.
After swallowing the pills and some water, MacGyver handed the half empty glass back to Jack. "Ugh, do I have to?"
"Afraid so, bud."
MacGyver yawned. "You pick."
He hated the breathing treatment, so Jack decided to start with that to get it out of the way. After draping a blanket over MacGyver's shoulders and preparing the therapy, Jack returned to sit next to his side. MacGyver fidgeted, but held the Nebulizer to his mouth and breathed the medicines in. He leaned against Jack.
"Oh, hey, I've been working on my magic tricks. Watch this." Jack pulled a quarter out of his pocket. As he showed him what he'd learned from a .99 cent magic book that someone had left in the waiting room, he could feel MacGyver begin to relax. He was trying to, not entirely successfully, watch every move of Jack's hands. Ultimately, he was completely distracted.
Mission accomplished.
"Jack?" MacGyver pulled the Nebulizer out of his mouth once finished. He still sounded exhausted.
"Yeah, bud?"
"Don't quit your day job."
Jack chuckled. "Everybody's a critic." He stood and took the Nebulizer from MacGyver.
"And Jack?" MacGyver waited until he was looking at him. "Thank you."
Jack's throat tightened; his eyes burned. "Anytime, kid."
~*~M~*~
"At least he doesn't remember those pants. Anything that bright should be outlawed." Bozer shuddered dramatically after setting a bowl of trail mix between Riley and Matty who were sitting around the fire pit. "I'm not gonna lie, they hurt my eyes."
"Did you ever get that photo I ordered you to get?" Matty looked up at him expectantly.
Bozer froze. "Oh, you see, uh...there was a lot going on, and my boy, he was hurtin'–"
"Hey, look who's up," Riley announced with a huge smile.
Wrapped in a blanket, MacGyver shuffled onto the deck with a hovering Jack.
"I like your hat, blondie."
MacGyver brushed his fingers over the soft, knitted material.
"With love from Nana Beth," Jack told them. "Gotta keep that half-naked noggin' warm." He helped MacGyver down to sit near the fire, then automatically pulled him back when he leaned too close to the flames, trying to get warm. "Dude," he warned.
"Sorry."
"And don't be lookin' at the flames, your eyes will start hurtin' again."
"Man, you are homed in on Papa Jack's radar," Riley teased with a fond smile.
Humming distractedly, MacGyver pulled his hat down more.
"You okay, blondie?"
"Yeah." He dropped his hand into his lap. "Just wondering if these cobwebs will ever go away." He gestured at his head.
"They will, Mac. You just gotta give yourself time," Jack reminded him.
"You really had us worried." Matty placed a hand over his blanket-covered arm.
"Yeah, please don't do that again," Riley added.
"I don't remember what I did," MacGyver admitted tiredly, "but I'm sure Jack will stop me from doing it again."
"Damn right, I will." Jack took the beer Bozer offered him, who then turned and handed MacGyver a large mug of steaming hot chocolate.
"Mmm thanks, Boze."
"Hey, anything for my boy. Just promise you won't go and get blown up or drowned again. My heart can't take it."
"I will do my best."
~*~M~*~
"Anyone else seriously behind on their Christmas shopping?" Riley asked as they ate their dinner around the fire. Christmas had been the last thing on their minds since MacGyver had gotten injured.
MacGyver furrowed his brow with a frown. "I actually have no idea."
"Hey, no worries, man," Jack tapped MacGyver's knee with the back of his fingers and leaned in. "I already got it covered."
"Does that mean everyone's getting a Cowboy blanket from me?" MacGyver asked tiredly.
"I can neither confirm, nor deny."
"As of late last night, I am D-O-N-E with my shopping," Bozer declared happily. "Thank God for Amazon."
"I haven't even begun," Matty admitted reluctantly.
As MacGyver started to wilt towards Jack, their conversation turned quieter. Riley rescued MacGyver's half-eaten plate of food, and Jack wrapped an arm around him.
"I want to know what everyone's Christmas Wish is this year," Matty said, opening another bottle of beer for herself. They were used to MacGyver falling asleep mid conversation since his surgery. As long as he seemed comfortable, they didn't wake him.
"A new game for my PlayStation," Riley immediately answered.
"For Jack to pick a movie for Christmas that isn't Die Hard," Bozer tossed in.
"Never gonna happen, Boze."
"What about you, Jack?" Matty turned to him. "What's your—?"
MacGyver jolted awake.
"Woah, hey, easy, hoss," Jack steadied him when he swayed dangerously close to the fire. He had woken a few times like this over the past week. He never remembered what, or if, he had been dreaming, just feelings of panic. "You're safe. You're home, bud."
Groaning, MacGyver grabbed his head with his hands and leaned in towards Jack.
"Mac?" Alarm cut through Jack like a hot knife. "Talk to me. You all right?" He placed a comforting hand over his shoulder.
MacGyver took a few unsteady breaths before eventually responding, "Yeah, jus'—just moved too fast."
"Your head hurtin'?"
"No more than usual," he answered faintly, lowering his hands. "Jack?"
"Yeah, bud, you wanna go lie down?" He immediately moved to help him up when he nodded. "The couch has a mountain of blankets with your name on it, unless you wanna go back to bed."
"Couch sounds perfect."
"All right, the couch it is. And, okay, now hear me out; how about a pre-Christmas Die Hard marathon."
Everybody had been following them in, and everybody made sounds of protest.
"I think once a year is enough," Bozer spoke for them all.
"All right, party poopers, suit yourselves," Jack relented as he helped MacGyver get settled on the couch, "but I'm still making popcorn."
Riley had carried in the empty bottles of beer and placed them on the kitchen island. "No arguments from me there."
"I'll get a fire started," Matty moved towards the fireplace.
Eventually, they all settled in to watch Home Alone and compare Kevin McCallister to MacGyver—who typically enjoyed the movie but had fallen asleep before their first mad dash through the airport.
Sitting on the couch under MacGyver's legs, Jack's mind drifted. He thought about how helpless and desperate he'd been along that riverbank, and in that cabin. How close he'd come to losing one of the most important people in his life. He thought about Matty's question…
"Jack?"
He nearly jumped and was surprised to find MacGyver awake-ish and watching him. The movie credits were rolling and everyone else was asleep. "You okay, kid?" he asked quietly.
"Yeah." He was clearly fighting to keep his eyes open. "You? Staring," he explained.
"Oh yeah, I'm good," Jack grinned softly, "just thinkin'."
"'bout?"
Jack looked around at his team. They were all safe and home and healthy—or on their way to be. His miracle. "Christmas Wishes."
And how he had already gotten his.
The end.