They finally extracted themselves from Phoenix Medical after lunch.
By then Mac had been getting twitchy. Everyone could tell, but no one was really sure why, in particular.
On the jet, on their way to Phoenix, even headed into what was kind of emergency surgery, he'd only seemed grateful they'd escaped the compound in Mexico and glad that people he could trust were the ones looking out for him and Jack.
Even after surgery, his biggest concern was how Jack was doing, and once he was sure his partner was okay, he'd been, for him, downright relaxed. When Riley and Boze had visited, said their good nights and left, Mac was just watching some sports thing on TV, waiting to get tired enough to sleep despite the break-through pain in his throat medication couldn't take care of and the constant low-level noise in Medical.
When anyone asked him if something was wrong, or if he needed anything, he gave roughly the same answer. "I'm good. Really. But thank you."
By morning, something was definitely different. He'd been up and dressed before the staff had even begun to think about their shift change procedures. Steve had seemed to anticipate neither of them wanting to hang around and did his best to get them out of there once he confirmed it wasn't actually dangerous to do so.
Mac insisted there was no reason he couldn't drive them to his place and no particular reason they needed anyone else looking after them. He could look after his partner just fine. And he was fine, so everyone could just relax.
Once he'd been formally shot down about all of it by the medical staff and by Matty, he'd rolled his eyes, and said, "So long as we're getting out of here, I guess."
Bozer was going to be providing remote backup for another team using some of his FX equipment, so Riley offered to Mac and Jack-sit.
She had insisted on driving them to Mac's place over his objections that mostly involved him wanting to take his own vehicle and she could follow him if she wanted. No one but Jack even tried to back him up.
Mac had taken the back seat. He'd said it was because Jack's legs were longer. Jack had raised an eyebrow, but hadn't said anything. He was taller, sure, but not by a hell of a lot. He suspected it was at least partially because by sitting directly behind Jack made it hard, if not impossible for Riley or Jack to see Mac's face, either directly or in the mirror without them obviously turning to do it. Jack got the idea that Mac maybe needed to talk, but not to anyone other than him.
Mac kept up appearances until they finally got clear of Phoenix. It had worked pretty well until they got home.
But now, he was tired, in not an inconsiderable amount of pain, and sorting through their brief visit from Matty (and his visit from Oversight last night, among other things), so it was getting harder to keep things where he wanted them. Namely off his face and out of other people's concern.
Mac had planned to disappear into his room to stretch out and let his brain sort through what he could box up and what he absolutely had to deal with. Unfortunately, Riley had more or less been appointed their temporary nurse until both Medical and Matty felt like they were back at full capacity. And she was taking it very seriously.
She'd insisted they go change into, "whatever passes for pjs for you two," and covered Mac's couches in pillows and blankets.
Jack was about done in from the process of getting home, and gratefully got himself onto the couch and sighed saying he felt like he'd just finished a marathon. Mac told him that, as far as his heart was concerned, he'd probably done about three of those before he came down from that drug.
Mac looked at his sofa like it might secretly be full of scorpions for a second.
"I really appreciate this, Ri, and I know Jack shouldn't be alone, but if you're gonna stay anyway, I kind of want to just go crash in my—"
"Not a chance." She gave him a hard look, one he didn't think he'd ever seen aimed at him; maybe at Jack, years ago before they'd sorted through their history. "You aren't supposed to be alone either. You had surgery two days ago, got pulled into a mission when you were still trying to shake off anesthesia, beat to hell on that mission which shouldn't have had anything to do with you, and then you started bleeding buckets and had to have another surgery to keep from bleeding out! Then you got out of bed before anyone told you it was even safe because you're so busy always trying to convince everyone you're okay that you never stop to make sure it's even true!"
Mac gave her his most charming, very best everything's fine smile. "Ri, I am okay, honestly. You don't need to—"
"You're about three shades too pale and you sound like shit!" Her eyes flashed with something so purely protective, so sort of furious, he almost dropped back a step. "You're staying right on the sofa where I can keep an eye on you, too!"
Mac's eyes widened, but he obediently climbed onto the sofa, put his back against the pillows, and allowed her to tuck the blankets around him.
To break the strange tense silence of the moment, he spoke (but softly so she wouldn't yell at him for overusing his voice, too). "You been taking lessons from Sully? Because you just sounded exactly like her." He flashed her another little smile. "It's kind of terrifying."
Her eyes softened and one corner of her lips curved a fraction. "That might have been a direct quote." She draped an unnecessary blanket around his shoulders, too, and leaned closer. "So do what you're supposed to or I'll have to start calling you stubborn and ridiculous, too."
He shook his head. "I'll do my best." Then he smirked. "Nurse Riley."
She surprised him then by leaning close and gently cupping his cheek. "Good." She stood. "I'm going to get you some of those pain pills and whatever you want on ice."
He made a slightly betrayed but more than a little amused face. His down-to-a-whisper-at-full-volume voice accused, "You were just seeing if I have a fever."
"Maybe I was. But you didn't seem to mind my method as much as Jack's or anyone at Medical's … What do you want to drink? Pick something sugary because Steve says that can be soothing. Plus you don't look like someone I'm going to convince to try eating anything. I already know how you feel about Jello."
He didn't want anything, to drink or otherwise. Swallowing hurt miserably. But not hydrating wasn't an option. "Orange Gatorade? And none of the prescription stuff. There's Tylenol in the cupboard next to the glasses."
Riley folded her arms. "Nothing with red dye. And you're supposed to take those pain pills so you actually get some rest. Try again."
He puffed out a long sigh. Protective Jack and irritating people in scrubs were one thing. Riley used to be the one who'd cover for him when he was sick or hurt and didn't want anyone in his business.
This change in Riley's usual demeanor annoyed him, but at the same time it warmed him a little, too. He wasn't sure what was happening between them. Whatever it was, part of him really wanted it. But this shift in dynamics, the prospect of her suddenly altering the terms their friendship had developed and that resulting in her feeling like she could make decisions for him or try to influence the ones he was making for himself, made him wary of it. But he couldn't dedicate the brain power to figuring it out right now.
He also cared about her, regardless of what might be evolving, and didn't want to get immediately defensive like he once might have. So, what he said instead of getting irritable with her was, "I think there's some Sprite in there from when Boze was mixing whatever that awful new cocktail was a couple weeks ago."
She smiled. "Good choice. I'll be right back."
"Just Tylenol. I'm not taking the other stuff. Seriously."
She eyed him for a minute, but gave a reluctant nod. When she moved off into the kitchen, he looked over at Jack who looked absolutely bonelessly asleep, propped up against the pillows. Mac couldn't talk very loud, but he said, "You're pretending to be asleep so she doesn't yell at you, too."
"Damn right I am. I learned from the best, too," Jack whispered back. He didn't open his eyes, but he grinned. "My mama didn't raise any fools. Nurse Riley is kinda scary. But I do think she's got a little extra motivation with you now, hoss." He paused. "I do find myself wondering what you think about that at the moment."
"I'm not sure what to think about it right this second," Mac said honestly. "Or even what it really is."
"I get that. It's a big shift, seeing her go full…"
"Bozer?" Mac asked ruefully.
Jack nodded. "Maybe just let her have a cooperative patient tonight."
"Yeah, I'm trying." He sighed.
They heard Riley coming back and Jack feigned sleep more fully again.
Mac looked at the pills, making sure they were what he asked for.
"They're just Tylenol like you said, even though that's a really dumb move for such a smart guy."
She said it with the right hint of teasing, but she had past experience with him eschewing stronger pain pills because of what they did to his sleep. He decided he didn't feel like explaining himself again, so he just shrugged and dutifully took the pills and drank some of the soda that he really didn't care for. "Thanks, Ri."
"You should get some rest. They told me at Medical you probably should have stayed at least a full 24 hours, and maybe more because that bleed was from trauma."
He shrugged his acknowledgement.
"Can I get you anything else first?"
Mac shook his head. "No thanks."
"Are you sure you won't take something more than Tylenol, Mac? You look like you're in pain. Your eyes are all squinty."
He shook his head again. "I'm okay, Ri, really."
Her hands found her hips. "You know it drives everyone crazy when you say you're fine when you're obviously not."
Mac felt his shoulders stiffen. "I say I'm fine when I'm fine. I'm thirty years old, Riley. I get to decide what fine is for me." He realized that sounded kind of snappish from her taken aback expression, so he flashed a sheepish grin. "And I'm not sure I like Medical trying to turn you into a field nurse. Because I really liked it better when you were … what did Jack say … my partner in crime … in my being fine on my own terms."
She nudged him over and sat down next to him, draping an arm around his shoulders. "That whole thing was so scary. I guess I'm still just worried about you guys." She squeezed his shoulders gently until he met her eyes. "I'm sorry if I pushed, Mac."
He looked away momentarily, then, "You … You didn't really … I just … If I could do hovering right now, I'd still be at Medical."
Riley gave him a very amused look. "Like I'm gonna believe that."
He managed a smile back. "You're the one who pointed out I've had two surgeries in as many days."
Riley frowned. "You're starting to lose your voice again, Mac. You should be resting. Okay? Please?" She squeezed his shoulders again, like that might be enough encouragement to get him to agree.
He nodded. His throat hurt like Hell. The rest of him wasn't thrilled either. "I'll rest, but I can't just sleep in the middle of the day. How about some TV?"
She moved so he could shift to a more comfortable position, but tucked him in again despite his half-amused eye roll.
She sat on the couch by his feet and Mac had the half amused, half kind of pissed off idea that it was so she'd know the second he tried to move. After they'd gotten through a movie, which he hadn't paid any attention to, he made a point of testing how much she was going to continue to hover by saying he thought a hot shower might make him feel better.
Riley had looked like she was going to balk, but all she said was, "Yeah, maybe some steam would be good."
He had wanted a shower. But he'd also needed some space.
When he'd checked his phone during the movie, there had been a text from his father.
~ I'd like another chance to talk about things. I was going to come down to Medical again, but you'd already left. I thought we agreed you were going to follow recommendations since you didn't get a chance to properly recover the first time.
When Mac hadn't responded right away to that text, his father sent another.
~Are you feeling up to continuing our conversation tonight?
Mac seriously considered just leaving him on read, but decided that instead of reading it as the no it implied, his father might not get the message, and Mac didn't want an unexpected visit.
He let the hot water beat some of the tension out of him for as long as he could. When he started to feel kind of iffy from being on his feet, he got out, toweled off, and pulled his t-shirt and sweats back on.
He eyed his bed longingly. Then he opened his bedroom door and looked down the hall. Jack was awake and chatting with Riley. Mac decided he could probably get away with doing what he intended all along.
He stretched out on his bed and closed his eyes. He just intended to sort through his thoughts, about what was going on between him and Riley, about his dad, about the KX project, and about what he'd learned while down in Mexico. But the overwhelming fatigue of recent surgery and running himself ragged for over 48 (including when he hadn't really been able to sleep at Medical) caught up with him. So, instead of a chance to work on straightening out his head, he was soon caught up in a dream, a flashbulb perfect recollection to combine his past with new horrors.
Mac's eyes blinked slowly open.
His brain felt like it was stuffed full of wet cotton that had maybe been soaked in cheap vodka.
The smell of mildew was the first thing he became really aware of in the dim room. Then his senses got past it and he smelled burnt motor oil, and something else distinctive and unpleasant. Bleach. The other smells were old, tired. But the bleach was sharp, nauseating.
It was cold.
He was cold.
Icy, rough metal chilled him and dug into his bare skin on the arms of the chair.
Something cold and smooth dug into his wrists.
He shouted, just hoping to get something to make sense, but nothing changed.
He started to slip back toward unconsciousness.
Come on, Mac, focus! This isn't good. You can barely get your eyes to focus and … Wait, what was I thinking about?
He moved just a little and the cold metal biting into his wrists jangled. He had a second to process that he was handcuffed to the jagged old chair, but then a stabbing pain in his right arm, just below the crook of his elbow made him suck in his breath. It hurt like hell, but at least it oriented him.
He took in the tight handcuffs, the inexpertly placed needle, the tubing, and then the dangling bag of IV solution.
At least that explains why you can't think straight. But drugged or not, you better get your ass in gear and figure out how to get loose.
Despite the limitations in movement created by the cuffs and the needle digging deeper every time he shifted to try to get a look around, he did his best to take in the room, to find something, anything he could use to get out of those cuffs.
The adrenaline of realizing he was a prisoner, drugged and restrained, started cutting through whatever he was being given a little, helping him start to focus on coming up with some kind of plan.
A sound caught his attention.
At first he couldn't place it.
Then the sound got closer.
A long lazy whistle.
He froze for a second and when his brain finally informed him of what that piercing sound meant, he went momentarily limp. Then everything about him tensed. He clenched his jaw and swallowed hard.
This is bad. This is really bad.
You know what he's done to his victims. It's never just a simple bullet. He likes to see them suffer.
Okay. Okay. I know this is bad, but there's no way Jack was just going to ignore all those phone calls forever, right?
He'll see that I'm gone and figure it out and have Tactical here in no time. Just keep Murdoc talking. And don't you dare let him think he's getting to you. That's when he ends it, when his victims are afraid. If you don't give him that, maybe you can hold out until Jack gets here.
He made himself meet Murdoc's liquid black shark's gaze as the killer approached him slowly, clearly savoring this moment.
"Oh, hello, MacGyver. How I have missed you."
The voice sent a shiver down his back, and despite his best intentions, he closed his eyes for a second. When he did, the drugs started pulling him back under.
The sound of Murdoc dragging another metal chair close across the rough concrete brought him back out of the unpleasant haze to an even more unpleasant reality.
He forced himself to stare defiantly at the killer until a gloved hand seized his arm and drove the already painful needle deep into his ulnar nerve.
He'd promised himself he would make a sound, but he couldn't help it. He did manage to keep from actually screaming, which he could tell was what Murdoc wanted from the hungry way those creepy doll's eyes bored into his, but he had the momentary satisfaction of denying him that. His determination wasn't enough to keep him from breaking out in a flushed sweat from it, or from feeling like he was going to refund his in-flight meal.
"Oh, good, you can still feel pain," Murdoc said cheerfully, instead of indicating his disappointment that Mac hadn't reacted more strongly as he pulled away.
Mac squeezed his eyes shut, breathing through the worst of it as Murdoc droned on. But then he said something that cut through the pain, the drugs, and even the fear he'd been caught up in.
"Because you see, Angus. It was agony to become what I am. You saw a sliver of that when you used Daddy Dearest's latest creation to save Jacky Boy. But the old drug, his methods then were so much worse." He chuckled softly and Mac went cold all over. Murdoc leaned closed and smiled a languid, amused baring of his teeth. "It made me indestructible, but it also made me who I am, that pain. And now … my dear boy. Now, you're going to feel everything I went through on a live feed for all your little friends to see."
He grabbed Mac's arm again and squeezed.
This time, he did scream.
Mac woke when he hit the floor, breathing heavily.
He hadn't even started to pick himself up off the floor when Jack and Riley both burst into his room.
"Mac!" was exclaimed simultaneously and they both reached for him to help him up.
He held up a hand. He didn't think he could tolerate anyone else touching him at the moment, no matter who they were. He used his bed for leverage to pull himself up. He sat down on the edge of it, just needing a minute.
"I'm okay," he rasped. It sounded so awful, he knew he must've screamed for real.
"You sure about that, Mac?" Jack asked carefully, eyebrows raised and looking like no matter what Mac said, he probably wasn't going to believe it.
Mac decided to just nod. Letting them hear him again seemed like a good way to get those mother-henning tendencies turned up to an intolerable level.
Riley looked like she wanted to fuss, but his reserve must've gotten through to her earlier. Or maybe Jack talked to her. Because instead of getting into his space, or fussing like she had before, she said, "You want to come out and watch TV with us? Matty stopped by on her way home and she brought Jack some take out, but she pretty much cleaned out the Ben and Jerry's Scoop Shop for you. Like you have to eat some of it because I'm not sure the freezer is really closed around all those pints."
He managed half a smile. The dream didn't want to let go of him, but company and ice cream might actually help. And even if it didn't help him, it would assuage Jack and Riley's obvious concern. He cleared his throat and winced, but sounded a little better when he said, "That sounds great."
Riley smiled back at him. "She brought a little of everything. What kind do you want? I'll go scoop you some."
"Phish Food?" he asked a little hopefully.
"Won't that hurt to swallow? It's chunky."
He grinned. "Maybe. But it's basically rocky road, so even if it does, it'll improve my mood."
She headed to the kitchen.
Jack looked at him with lingering concern. "You really okay? I haven't heard a dream kick your ass like that in a really long time."
Mac shrugged. "It wasn't good. But I managed to not break any bedroom furniture, so let's just call it a win and go clean out my freezer a little, yeah?"
Jack clapped him on the shoulder. "Sounds good to me, kid."
Mac glanced at his phone on the nightstand, but decided he didn't want to deal with any more texts that would set his brain on fire again, so he left it where it was and headed out to the living room.
Jack went to the freezer and grabbed a whole pint of Milk and Cookies before he sat back down.
Mac flopped down on the couch and grabbed the remote. "So, Die Hard?"
"Ugh," Riley said, as she delivered his bowl of ice cream. "Don't you guys ever get tired of that movie?"
"No," Jack said with a shake of his head. "If we feel like hell, it's kind of a tradition."
Mac agreed around a spoonful of ice cream. "A really old tradition."
"Fine. But no saying all the lines this time, Jack."
Jack grinned. "No promises."
Riley got her laptop and scrunched down in the overstuffed chair in the corner. She got out her earbuds, too. "If you guys need anything just throw something at me. I'm gonna listen to some music and work on the video game I'm writing."
Mac waved his thanks and cued up the movie and he and Jack were soon lost in the familiar ritual of watching Die Hard to try to forget a little of their own misery by seeing John McClane's.
After a while, Jack dozed off, still pretty obviously beat. He glanced over at Riley and her eyes were closed, too. He knew she'd dozed off because she was snoring softly. He chuckled, because so was Jack. He decided he wasn't a hundred percent convinced that Riley wasn't actually Jack's biological kid.
His smile faded to a frown again.
Biology isn't everything.
He sat there for a long time, until he was sure they were both really fully asleep.