Irrespective of the fact that Mac had not let up with his insistence that he did not, in point of fact, need a room, and that he'd made a pretty good case for it initially, he wound up in one anyway. As he sat in his woefully uncomfortable bed pretending to watch TV while he waited for Jack to show up, he had to admit, it was kind of his own fault.

He'd done his best to make the notes in his chart seem like absolute bullshit, because he really did like the new guy and was glad Sully had been able to find him. He said since he had no intention of hanging around, he wasn't going to put up with changing into a gown, but he had, very agreeably he thought, given Sully his locker combination and changed into his gym shorts and a t-shirt to make it easier to deal with his leg.

Realistically, he remembered how much easier shorts had made coping with it the last time once he'd given in to Jack's suggestion, so he figured he might be living in them for a few days anyway. When she'd left to go get his clothes for him he could practically hear her thinking that he was stubborn and ridiculous and maybe even the stuff about willful disregard for his own wellbeing, but she didn't say any of it out loud, so it didn't bother him.

He even put up with them fixing up the knife wound more cleanly, and even just tolerated a blood draw and IV fluids, because he'd bled for quite a long while and they didn't trust how he'd cleaned it up himself, without complaining a whole lot. His blood pressure had been kind of low, so he knew there was no point in saying he was fine. The data was against him. Fortunately, it seemed Sully was a lot more competent than some of her other staff, because he was pleasantly surprised to not wind up riddled with holes and he said so.

"I told you, I'm good at this."

"When you said you got your bachelor's in two and a half years, I assumed you must be. Not to mention getting hired as the head nurse here at under thirty."

"Is that some grudging respect from the famously worst patient in the agency?"

Mac shook his head. "I refuse to believe my chart says I'm worse than Jack."

Steve chimed in then, "Well, sure, Dalton's has its own share of notes, but none of them say that he's ever staged a daring escape from the infirmary against both prevailing medical wisdom and orders from the boss."

Mac smirked then. "She wasn't my boss then. So, you couldn't properly call them orders. Besides, I walked right out and drove right by the security guard in the parking structure, so you can't properly call it a daring escape either."

Steve grinned in return. "Does it say anything about abusing technicalities in his chart yet, Sully?"

She laughed. "I think my predecessor said he's inclined to be pedantic."

"I am NOT," Mac said, genuinely offended.

Steve's grin hadn't faded. "If you'll agree to a quick CT scan so we can be sure your concussion isn't causing any bleeds and that my exam didn't miss anything we ought to know about, I'd be inclined to encourage Sully to amend that note."

Mac shrugged. "Sure." He glanced at the IV solution that was just finishing and held out his arm. "Let's get rid of this damn thing, then you can irradiate my entire skeleton if it makes you guys happy."

Sully gave him a look he was all too familiar with. "What if you need contrast?"

"Nope," Mac shook his head. "Protocol for concussion evaluation with computed tomography doesn't suggest any utility for contrast unless the patient is presenting with complications. Which I'm not. I'm kinda dizzy and I have a headache. Which I'd say for a guy who got blown up today isn't really all that bad. Besides, I already told you this was a catch and release operation, right?"

She looked at Steve with an amused eyebrow raise. "You sure you want me taking the word pedantic out of that chart?"

"Also," Mac went on. "The contrast stuff gives me hives. Maybe put that in my chart instead of erroneous comments about my personality."

Steve shrugged. "He's right."

Mac had felt pretty smug about it at the time, too, especially because he had gotten to ditch the IV so he didn't feel tethered to the exam room. When Sully came back a short while later, she caught him inventorying the cabinets and rolled her eyes. "What're you doing now?"

He shrugged. "You guys are taking forever. There's no reading material and the wifi won't connect to my back-up phone and there's no cell signal in here."

"So, you're bored."

"Yeah, kinda."

"And rifling through my cupboards is how you deal with being bored?"

He shrugged. "Beats staring a hole in the floor waiting for you guys. Besides, I like to know what my options are in any environment."

Her eyebrows climbed. "Options for what?"

He shrugged again. "You never know."

He could tell she'd had about enough of him this evening, and while he didn't quite feel as unkindly disposed as he had before today, he also thought he was okay with the feeling of doneness being mutual. When he said he was perfectly capable of walking around the corner to where they had all their imaging stuff, she didn't even argue with him.

Then he almost fell on his face when they went around the corner, and he sort of wished she had. The room had spun for several minutes after that and when he could finally refocus, Steve had been there shining that damned light in his eyes again. "You do realize I'm taking back my endorsement of you leaving tonight now, right?"

Mac blinked a few times then sighed heavily. "Yeah."

Now that he'd been in the room for a while and had even had a nap, he didn't feel especially dizzy anymore. And since he took some Tylenol and ate his disappointing late dinner, his head didn't really hurt either. He hadn't slept in his own bed in weeks and being prevented from doing it again was making him grumpy as hell. Also, he had to admit as he glanced at the clock again, having no word either about or from Jack was starting to make him genuinely nervous.

He eyed the call button, contemplating an attempt to get information out of one of the nurses. But he didn't think he could handle Sully anymore this evening, and Lord knew if Demon Tinkerbell was working, he'd probably wind up trying to find a way to have the building need to be evacuated. So he decided to stick with his usual policy of never touching a damned call button and inviting trouble.

Mac was seriously contemplating lighting something on fire by the time Jack was delivered to their room sometime after 11. Mac had to smile a little at the obviously-medicated flirting with Theresa, the nurse he'd been trying to get to go out to dinner with him for a while. She was willing, of course. But she worked the overnights, and Jack's days off weren't exactly predictable, so they hadn't been able to make it work yet.

She helped the sling-wearing agent get himself into bed. "I have an idea, Jack. We'll have breakfast tomorrow. We'll both be here anyway."

"Well, now, I'm not gonna say no to your company no matter what. But I can't help be disappointed at how we're gettin' around the breakfast, because I can think of nicer ways—"

"Hey, Jack," Mac greeted pointedly before medication-drunk Jack could say anything he couldn't unhear.

"Oh, hey there, kid," Jack grinned. "I thought you weren't interested in these five star accommodations."

Mac shook his head. "I'm still not. But I got a little woozy, and everybody basically had a panic attack about it. So here I am."

"Sorry, man. I know how you feel about it."

"I know how you usually feel about it, so I'm guessing they broke out the good stuff for you. Because you look downright thrilled to be here tonight."

"Yeah, well, they patched up my shoulder and it was pretty bad, so they kinda have me…"

"Three sheets to the wind on some kind of Jack-Happy-Juice."

Jack laughed, way more than anything Mac said warranted, but Mac definitely preferred that to the pale, shaking, and obviously miserable version of his partner who'd been wheeled off earlier.

"Yeah, I'm not feelin' a damn thing right now, and I don't mind one bit."

"I'm glad, Jack. Cairo was about the worst—"

"You know what we say about Vegas?"

Mac raised an eyebrow. "What happens there stays there?"

"Yeah, how about we make that the rule for the vortex of doom that mission was?"

In spite of his lousy mood from the rest of the evening, Mac had to chuckle at that. "I think that's a good rule."

Theresa made sure Jack was comfortable. "Do you want anything to eat, Jack?"

"No thanks, Terri. I'm all set. I'll just save some room for that breakfast you're promising."

"Alright. You hit that call button if you need anything."

"Including company?"

"Get some sleep, Jack."

"Alright, but it's a damn shame there's only room for one in this bed."

"Jack," Mac reminded him. "You've got a roommate. And since I can't just take out my brain and run it under cold water, do me a favor and take a mental cold shower before I'm traumatized."

Jack and Theresa both laughed. Then she asked, "Can I get you anything, Mac?"

"My walking papers?"

"Cute. You'll have to try to negotiate in the morning. That's above my paygrade."

"Then I think I'm all set," he said as pleasantly as he could make himself.

"Don't you hesitate to use that call button either."

"I will be sure never to do that, but thank you."

After she turned off the light over the head of Jack's bed and left, Mac studied his dopey, obviously sleepy partner for a long moment. "How are you doing really, Jack? Now that you don't have to be a big tough Delta for your love interest of the moment?"

Jack studied him, too, a little owlishly, as if trying to concentrate past the drugs he was currently being fed via the IV he was probably stuck with until they decided to cut him loose. "I was bein' honest. Nothing hurts right now, which is a big improvement. But I'm not feelin' real good about how long I'm gonna be off the duty roster."

Mac frowned. If Jack was off the duty roster, so was he. Because there was not way he would be authorized to go in the field after O'Neill in particular after he'd been captured and held by the man. And he still really wanted to be the one to take him down. "How long? Did they say?"

Jack shook his head. "They didn't get real specific, maybe 'cuz they've got me all doped up, but I get the feelin' it's gonna be months. And maybe another surgery."

"I'm sorry, man."

"What're you sorry for? It's not your fault, kid."

"I didn't mean like that. Just more generally."

"No, you didn't. I can hear that Mac-feels-guilty tone."

Mac shrugged. "I miscalculated the blast force and how the dumpster would direct it."

"We didn't have a lotta options, Mac. You saved our lives and all those college kids. Say nothing about that museum you were so fired up about protecting."

He shrugged again. "If I hadn't armed the bomb to begin with as a tactic, we wouldn't have been in that position."

"And if Nikki had been doin' what she was supposed to be, they wouldn't have seen us going through the place on the cameras. And if I hadn't been screwin' around, you would have been able to pay attention to what you were doing."

Mac sighed. "Doesn't change the fact that I screwed up. And you got hurt."

"So did you, kid. And like I said, I'll own that I was bein' a distraction instead of a help."

"But, Jack—"

"I thought we agreed, what happens in Cairo stays in Cairo."

He had to smile at that. He couldn't help it. "I guess we did agree to that."

"I don't think I can keep my eyes open anymore, Mac." Jack rubbed his eyes but all it did was make them feel heavier. "You should maybe think about getting some sleep, too."

Mac flicked off the TV. "Yeah, I'm beat," he lied. "I was just watching TV to keep myself awake until you got back here." He turned off the light, too.

Jack was snoring lightly in under five minutes.

Mac forced himself to relax into the crinkly pillow, but just lay there for a long time, staring at the ceiling and thinking he wished saying what happened somewhere stayed there was all it took for him to be able to rack out, too.