Mac felt like he was finally getting used to the War Room.
Either that, or he was too tired and sore to actually be distracted by all of it. He'd decided to sit this evening instead of taking up his usual position on his feet. He told himself it was because Jack kept teasing him about practically standing at attention during briefings, but in the back part of his mind, he sort of had to acknowledge he was exhausted, and achy, and he wanted to go home, take about a half a bottle of Advil and sleep until at least Wednesday.
Maybe he didn't really want to sleep. His dreams on the jet had been pretty miserable, though thankfully he apparently hadn't given any indication that Nikki would notice. His captivity on the Carlisle estate, while nothing compared to when he'd been in the custody of O'Neill and his men, had dragged those memories he'd been working very hard to bury right to the surface. And so far, the boss hadn't indicated that they were going to head right back out to bust O'Neill's teeth in.
So, he picked up a paperclip, started to unwind and shape it, and let his mind wander a bit.
He'd sort of checked out after Thornton put up the first satellite photos. The images confirmed, to Mac who swore he'd know the set of the man's shoulders from a million miles away anyway, that O'Neill was at a training camp in Libya. They also confirmed that he was well-supplied, well-armed, and had a good number of people at his command.
That was enough to distract anybody.
Especially the guy who'd spent years having nightmares about leaving him behind in a war zone, only to find out he was a traitor, and be captured and tortured by the man. Combine Mac's general discomfort over all that coming up for him with Thornton's detailed descriptions of the technical aspects of the intelligence gathering, and it wasn't long before Mac's brain was off woolgathering. He was on edge and kind of bored with the tech talk. Computers were not really his thing. He was competent with them, but not overly interested.
That's why she added Nikki to the team. And she's still off dealing with the data from the Carlisle op. What the Hell do I care how we got this stuff? I just want to get back on the jet and go get this asshole and if Thornton's not going to let us do that tonight, I want to go home and crash.
In order to keep his drowsy misery off his face, Mac started contemplating the smart glass that made up most of the walls of the war room. He had discovered that it worked through an electrostatic liquid crystal mechanism that aligned or scattered the crystals depending on the level of opacity you needed. He was pretty sure he could rig something up on the picture window in their living room and was taking a mental inventory of the garage, deciding if he'd needed to get to the hardware store to accomplish it. It nicely put his memories of captivity out of his mind and he started to relax just a little.
His pleasant reverie was interrupted by Thornton's deceptively pleasant query, "Which option appeals to you, Mac?"
He startled just a little. "Um …" He racked his brain for what she'd said leading up to her question. Unfortunately, he came up empty. "Whatever you think is best, Director Thornton," he hedged, hoping whatever she said next would offer some clue as to where the conversation had been.
The way one corner of her mouth twitched, he knew he'd blown it.
"No preference at all?" she prompted.
The perfect response occurred to him. "I'm interested in what you think, Director Thornton."
He heard Jack mumble something that sounded almost like a warning, but didn't look his way. Thornton blinked. He couldn't tell if she was annoyed or not though. "Well, personally, I wouldn't want someone else making a decision like this for me," she said very seriously, giving him a look of what he interpreted as intense concern.
"I …" He cleared his throat. Doubling down, his shoulders squared and his jaw firmed just a little. "I wasn't asking you to decide, just what your opinion was," he replied with what he thought was more than believable confidence.
Silence hung in the air for a long moment.
Mac resisted the urge to shift in his seat, instead allowing himself to pull out his pocket knife to get more serious about shaping the paperclip in his hands.
Thornton's lips curled up on one side. "I'd prefer to send out for sushi myself, but I seem to recall you're not all that enthusiastic about fish."
Damn. It. All.
Of course all she was asking about was dinner. What the hell else would the boss, who was apparently somebody who could make any spy in the world shake in their boots, ask a junior agent, who was already getting a reputation for being a little impulsive and unlikely to stick to the script, about.
He hoped he kept all that off his face. He shrugged. "I don't mind it. Soft shell crab is alright."
The other side of her mouth joined the first in what could only be interpreted as a highly amused smile from the boss and Jack chuckled audibly.
"Told ya he wasn't listnin'."
Mac threw him a half-hearted glare. Then he returned his gaze to Thornton. "I was listening … I was just thinking about other things, too." That's technically true. "I apologize that you didn't have my full attention, Director."
She tilted her head, looking at him like she was taking his measure. "What you may have missed was me saying that anyone who preforms as admirably as you have on two unexpectedly complicated missions that happened back to back should get to have their meal preferences respected this evening."
Mac grinned. He was pleased she was focusing on the successes of the last day or so and not that he'd nearly let some petulant nerd's unauthorized science project start some kind of plague by accidentally frying its containment power source followed by getting pinched by a bad guy's bodyguards.
"I'm really not picky, ma'am. So long as you don't let Jack play field chef with some questionable MREs, I can eat pretty much anything."
"Duly noted. But I can cope with skipping sushi in favor of burgers and fries if that suits you." she said, cocking an eyebrow at Jack that clearly communicated that she wanted to hear the MRE story.
Mac flashed another grin. "That sounds great."
"Now, Mac, if you hurry, you can probably be back while your meal is still hot."
Mac blinked. "Hurry where, Director?"
"To Medical. As previously ordered."
"I went straight to Medical earlier," he protested.
"Well, you signed in, certainly."
"So I went!"
"But you didn't stay to be evaluated or treated," Thornton observed with slightly amused disapproval.
Mac sighed. "They were really busy, and they're still down a nurse apparently because the new person's flight got delayed. Anton's team came in with … I don't know, but … I was in the way."
Thornton was sympathetic but still amused. "And?"
Mac shrugged. "And I figured I get myself out of the way. Like I said, the medic on the way back said I'm good, and..."
"And you'd rather I let it go."
Another shrug.
"If you want your team to have authorization from Oversight to go into Libya to break up this camp and hopefully sweep up O'Neill, you're going to need to do more than sign in and decide you don't feel like reading old magazines for a while."
Mac sighed and got up to head back to Medical.
"You want some company?" Jack offered.
Mac read it as Jack figuring he was about to put in a repeat performance of not hanging around to be annoyed. He rolled his eyes and said snappishly, "I don't need an escort." He forced a more pleasant tone when he said, "When you guys order the food, can you get me a strawberry milkshake? I'm starving."
0-0-0
Jack looked up from his take out when Mac came back through the door. Uh oh, the kid does not look happy.
Other than Jack and a mountain of take out, Thornton's office was empty.
Mac tossed a folder onto her desk and flopped gracelessly down in one of her leather chairs puffing out an irritated sigh.
Jack shoveled in some more fries and put his feet up on another chair. He was doing his best just look like he didn't know something was up, although he could tell from his partner's expression that he wasn't buying it. After he chewed and swallowed, he asked casually, "How'd it go, kid?"
"Fine," he said, sounding less than a hundred percent genuine. He reached for the milkshake he'd requested earlier. "Where's Thornton?"
"She had to go deal with some Oversight thing."
Mac sipped his milkshake, which was really more just strawberry milk because he'd been gone longer than expected. After a minute, his face resumed its disgruntled lines. "I hope she'd not gone long. If I'm gonna get bounced anyway I'd rather take off now and go have a beer."
"Bounced? You okay, kid? You told me you were okay," Jack said, unable to keep a slight accusation out of his voice.
Mac sighed. "I'm fine, Jack. Ribs are just bruised. Hell, most of me is a little bruised," he admitted. "But it's nothing an ice pack and a couple ibuprofen won't take care of."
Jack's head tilted in an inquisitive expression. "So how come you look ready to add some knuckle bruises to the picture?"
"Foster was on duty."
Jack made a face. "What ax is he grinding on you today?"
Mac's brow creased some more and he shook his head. "Recommended modified duty for four to six weeks."
"For bruised ribs?" Jack asked, slightly incredulous. He kept to himself that he thought Mac would have had the same reaction to the unpopular doctor even if his ribs had been busted wide open and that bruised ribs, in his experience anyway, hurt nearly as much as broken ones. But that was the kind of thing the job came with. And Foster could be a gold plated prick when he wanted to be with just about anyone. But he seemed very inclined to be that way with Mac, not that Jack wanted to say so. It already took an act of Congress to get Mac to admit he might need to slow down for a minute even when he respected or liked the person saying so. "That seems kind of…"
"Ridiculous," Mac finished for him. "Same shit as when my shoulder was healing a couple months ago. If Doc Anderson hadn't been on duty when I applied for clearance I'd probably still be in freaking physical therapy for that!" He sighed again. "Foster just has it out for me."
Jack raised an eyebrow, thinking, not for the first time, that Mac had an uncanny ability to seem like he was reading Jack's mind sometimes. "He's got it out for all of Ops, kid," Jack commiserated.
"Maybe." Mac made another face. "Oh, and I met the new nurse."
"Better than whatshername?" Jack asked almost hopefully, but he knew something was up because his partner had flushed crimson.
"Pfft." Mac folded his arms. "She's bossy and mean."
Jack raised an eyebrow. "And?"
"And I'm apparently already marked as a problem." Mac pressed his lips together, willing his face to return to its usual color. "Like there is now a note in my chart and everything. And she kind of yelled at me."
"About what?"
Mac shifted in his seat and shrugged. He eyed his burgers and fries like they were a mountain he had to climb, and settled for taking another drink of his warm milkshake. He sighed. "On balance I'd take bossy new nurses who like to yell for not reason over the asshole that can wreck my life for months at a time by sticking me on desk duty."
"Who's wrecking your life?" Thornton asked as she breezed back into the room.
Mac stiffened. Oh good, the boss overheard some of our conversation. Great even. "No one, hopefully, ma'am." Mac got up, careful to keep his movements easy and fluid. He picked up the folder from her desk and handed it directly to her. How to put this diplomatically… "I'm concerned that Dr. Foster's … um … over abundance of caution … could cause some difficulties for the upcoming mission."
A half smile, which he was learning to recognize as genuinely amused, quirked up the corners of her lips. "Over abundance of caution? Let's see." She glanced at the folder.
Mac made himself sit back down. He was still tired and ready for more pain relief (though refusing any at Medical was part of what got him yelled at by the new gal). But he also thought that sitting like he was relaxed looked more confident (Besides, if he was sitting he wouldn't do that shifting from one foot to the other thing that Penny said always gave him away when he was 'fudging the truth'). Not able to make himself swallow any more of his milkshake, he picked up a water bottle instead.
Thornton opened the folder and read over the paper form that Foster still insisted on using even though she'd told him repeatedly she preferred these things be communicated electronically for expediency's sake. She raised her eyes to surreptitiously look at her youngest agent.
Mac was valiantly trying not to fidget, although he was screwing and unscrewing the cap to his water bottle restlessly. His posture was almost too straight, his shoulders too square. His jaw was tight and he had yet to return the smile she'd offered him. Tense and defensive and trying hard not to be either. For once she was grateful Don Foster hadn't acknowledged it was the 21st century and filed this visit summary in their computer system. It wouldn't do to have him taken out of the field while the O'Neill case was still open. It had been the whole reason he'd agreed to come on to DXS to begin with. And no matter how talented he was at the job, Patricia Thornton had the sense that if she wanted to keep him at it, he would need to see that through.
She put the folder down and sat behind her desk. "You think four to six weeks of restrictions is too cautious?"
Mac swallowed. He realized he was still fidgeting with his water bottle and put it now. He nodded. "Yes, ma'am, I do."
She leaned back, gracefully crossing her legs. "Despite the fact that bruised ribs take at least that amount of time to heal?"
A line formed across his forehead and Mac sat forward. When he spoke it was fractionally louder. Someone less trained wouldn't have heard the increase in volume but Jack did. Because he knew Mac. So did Thornton. Because she was just that good.
"But they're not dangerous even now. That's just how long they take to not hurt."
He paused, realizing he was nearly off the edge on his seat. He sat back, only looking about a third as on edge as he was. He felt strongly that he shouldn't be this irritated, but that didn't help him get on top of the feeling. He'd tried to have a reasonable discussion with the doctor when his x-rays came back clean, but Foster had done the unforgivable. He'd snapped, "If you're going to be careless and get injured, be prepared to deal with the consequences like an adult. Or get better at hiding it." Nothing like directly quoting your dad at you from one of your least stellar pre-adolescent moments to make you feel like a damned kid who still needed to prove themselves.
He took a deep breath. "No one ever promised this job was going to be comfortable, Director Thornton. And," He tipped her his best charming smile. "At this point in my life, I'm pretty comfortable with being uncomfortable." She didn't respond. "I just want to work, ma'am. I want to go to Libya, for obvious reasons. Being a little sore isn't going to get in my way."
Finally, Jack contributed his own two cents. "He more than held his own at the end of that op in England, Patty. Four of us were totally pinned down and he's the one who got us clear. Kid hadn't even had an aspirin after hours of gettin' whaled on by Carlisle's Brute Squad and he saved our asses. Benchin' him for some bruises on the word of Don Foster when we're going after this O'Neill son of a bitch would be downright dumb."
Mac flashed him a grateful smile but didn't say anything else, just eyed the boss a little warily.
Thornton favored him with a speculative look. "Fortunately for you I am both more reasonable than Don, and am also prepared to be more lenient with my field-ready standards than Oversight might prefer in this case."
Mac practically held his breath waiting for her to finish.
"And perhaps even more fortunately, Don still doesn't know how to use the new e-record keeping system, so this report isn't finalized. I'll have him amend it to reflect recommendations to maximize your effectiveness in the field rather than keeping you out of it. His assistant won't file it without my signature anyway."
Mac's shoulders sagged with relief. After dealing with being benched with his shoulder a few months ago, he thought he might go crazy sitting behind a desk again so soon. And if anyone got in his way of going after the bastard who was responsible, he wasn't sure what he would do. He also thought if work was going to remind him of the unpleasant parts of his childhood he'd rather go back to fixing cars. "Thank you, Director Thornton. I appreciate that."
She typed something into her laptop at lightning speed. "Let's have a bite to eat, and discuss what resources you'll need to get the job done in Libya."
Mac found he finally wanted the food in front of him.
Jack grinned for Mac's benefit and leaned over to steal a couple of Mac's fries. He wasn't so sure he liked how eager Thornton was to send Mac back out all dinged up like he was, but he also figured Mac would probably burn down the damned building if she told him he couldn't go after O'Neill. "Sounds good to me, Patty."