Mac leaned against the bathroom counter trying to decide exactly what to do and finding his sluggish thinking more frustrating than dealing with the same symptom in Jack. Mac liked his brain to function in a particular way, and right now, it was barely kicking on at all. He felt like he'd had a bottle of the higher than legal proof ouzo that Nikki's uncle liked to crack out if they went out to the vineyard on a slow weekend. And Mac had never had close to a bottle of that stuff. It tasted like souped up licorice and Mac didn't like licorice of the usual variety, and rarely drank anything harder than a lite beer.
He decided to deal with his leg first. That was a shallower wound than the one that ran from his shoulder to near his sternum that was still bleeding freely so he felt like it would be easier to face. He fished his Swiss Army knife out of his pocket and used the scissors to cut away a little of his pant leg.
"Well, ain't that some shit," he said quietly to the empty bathroom.
The wound track was almost exactly along the scar of his bullet graze from the warehouse incident in Inglewood from months ago and just a little north of the surgery scar from when he'd wiped out on Broadway in Mission City in the skateboard accident that he was sure had Harry and his father talking behind his back.
He used some saline to irrigate the wound, swearing under his breath when it made him break out in a cold sweat. Once it was cleaned up as well as he could get it, he did something he knew would drive Jack and Medical crazy and poured salt from the shaker he'd lifted from the food cart into it. He knew it was a good idea in terms of preventing infection, but he still nearly passed out at how much it hurt and he was sure he'd punched something, because when he could focus again, his knuckles felt raw and bruised.
"Well, that sucked more than your average," he said aloud.
He took some deep breaths before he used the superglue to close the wound. He'd been hoping there was some wound glue in the first aid kit, but either it hadn't been restocked the last time someone needed to use it, or Medical really did just have the itch to poke holes in people, because there'd been a suture kit and lidocaine, but nothing less invasive. Mac wasn't opposed to stitching if he absolutely had to, but cyanoacrylates existed and this wasn't too deep to glue, so he could avoid putting more holes into himself than Farhad's men had seen fit to inflict on him.
Mac found himself sitting on the floor of the bathroom, resting his head against the cool vanity, breathing through some pretty serious nausea after he dripped the glue into the bullet graze and held it closed. He couldn't remember getting there, but he also knew it must've been a controlled maneuver because he hadn't hurt himself more getting there.
Now he knew he needed to deal with the injury to his chest.
"Hey, Mac?" Nikki called through the door.
He let his eyes find the ceiling for a second, saying a silent prayer that his life just be less complicated for an hour or two. "Yeah?" he called back like he wasn't irritated to be interrupted in the middle of this.
"Um, Medical wants to check in with you."
He looked to the ceiling again. 'C'mon, just a little not complicated for like a timezone or two, okay? Please?'
"Tell them I'll call them back," Mac said sounding much less irritated than he felt. He'd left so they could have a look at Jack and leave him the hell alone. He was fine. Well, fine enough to get back to LA, whereupon he was sure they'd be irritating as hell up close and personal.
There was a pause. Then Nikki said, "They said they'll wait."
Mac took a slow measured breath, not wanting to take Nikki's head off, but also not altogether happy with her. If someone had been interfering with her blocking signals, he shouldn't have had to find out about it by Bozer calling him. She could have called and told them what was up. He also didn't feel like dealing with Medical right now. But he didn't see a good way around it … Unless…
"Yeah, okay. I'll be right out," he said.
Then he proceeded to unbutton his shirt, irrigate that wound with saline, salt it, and get as much glue into it as he could. It wasn't enough to close it fully. But it was enough to make it less dangerous. He pulled the shirt off the rest of the way and threw it in the trash. Then he pulled on the clean t-shirt he'd brought along from his bag. He downed some of the antibiotics and Tylenol that he'd snagged out of the medpack before he left it with Jack. He figured both were a good idea.
"Mac?" Nikki called.
"Yeah?"
"Thornton said to get a move on, okay?"
"Yeah, I'll be right out," he repeated, not sure how he wanted to handle things.
"The doc asked me to fill him in while we're waiting. So, knife wound, bullet graze, you got blown up … Anything else I should pass on?"
"Which doc?" Mac asked as he got up to turn on the sink to wash the blood off his hands.
"Foster," Nikki replied, sounding absolutely neutral.
Mac couldn't figure out how anyone said the man's name without spitting it like something that tasted bad, but he knew he and Jack were on the same page about the asshole, so at least his partner would be on board with not wanting to deal with the guy. Then he had a moment where he felt sort of bad for leaving Jack on his own to deal with him. But realistically, he'd needed to clean things up, and the bathroom where he had hot running water had been the logical place to do so, even if he hadn't come in here to use the mirror to check his superglue job.
If it had been anyone else, Mac would have shared the fight, his suspicion that he'd damaged the ribs he bruised several weeks earlier on the Carlisle compound, the smoke inhalation, the pounding in his head and dizziness, the blurry vision that signaled a concussion.
But with Don Foster, Mac just couldn't make himself do it.
Mac had barely even known the doc when the guy had reminded him of some of the most challenging parts of his childhood. And their relationship had not improved from there. Normally, Jack would run interference with irritating personnel or tell Mac he wasn't giving the staff a fair shake. But Jack hated Foster even more than he did, always saying he just wanted to land a fist in the guy's punchface. So, Mac couldn't convince himself that his reaction was irrational. Jack was usually pro Mac putting up with Medical if he got twitchy, but since even Jack was okay with him avoiding the place if Foster was on duty, Mac saw avoiding the guy as a good, Overwatch backed decision.
"No, you've got it covered," he said. Sighing softly. He couldn't stall much longer. But … if he was going to have to cop to a concussion once he got back to LA anyway … He got out the replacement phone he'd grabbed from miscellaneous post-mission supplies and texted Jack.
'Hey, just want you to know I'm fine. But I'm not coming out.'
A text bubble appeared and disappeared a couple of times, then finally, 'Can't say I blame you, kid. He's in rare form today.'
'I'm just going to stop answering Nikki. But I'm really fine, okay?'
'She's gonna freak out.'
'Yeah, well, if she'd actually been blocking signals or told us when that wasn't working, neither one of us would be in the condition we're in.'
Jack sent a series of emojis Mac was pretty sure meant that he agreed, followed by, 'How long you gonna stay in there?'
'Till Medical gives up. Maybe somebody else'll be on duty by the time we get to LA.'
'Don't go to sleep. You know you got your bell rung, too.'
'You either. No sleeping.'
'Mac, that ain't even an option.'
'Did you take good pain meds? Because even your texting sounds like Texas, man.'
'Haha.'
Nikki knocked again, and Mac just did his best to ignore it. It got harder when it got more frantic and harder still when she called his cell, and then Thornton called it. But he stuck with it. He got tired after a while and sat down on the floor.
When the obvious occurred to her and she went and got the key, he made himself lean against the vanity, pretending to be dozing.
"Mac! Oh, my God, are you okay?!"
Nikki was always saying he was a bad liar, and he supposed he was, but that didn't mean he wasn't a good actor when the mission demanded it. He blinked slowly a few times. "Nikki?" he asked hazily, impressed with himself at how absolutely foggy he sounded.
"What happened in here?"
"I … I was cleaning up and … I don't know. I needed to sit for a minute and—"
"And I've been going out of my mind. Jack got worried, too. He told me about the bathroom key and—"
Wait, Jack got worried? But we texted about this.
His frown deepened. "What time is it? Where are we?"
"We're practically back in LA, Mac! You've been in here for hours. We're gonna be landing in like twenty minutes."
That's not great. He got out his phone and saw about twenty unread messages from Jack. Shit. I better go show him I'm not dying or even if Foster's still on duty, he'll probably throw me to the wolves at Medical.
Mac used the counter to pull himself up off the floor and his stomach flipped unpleasantly. He realized that even just sitting in here, his chest had kept seeping because his clean shirt was now sticky with blood. He steadied himself for a moment, then turned on the water so he could splash cold water on his face. Nikki kept talking but he wasn't really taking it in.
He dried his face on some paper towels and brushed past her back into the cabin to sit down across from Jack.
"Hey, partner," he said as he lowered himself onto the couch next to Jack rather than across from him so he could keep their conversation quiet. "How you holding up?"
"I'm alright, Mac," he said carefully. "You scared the shit outta me though, you know it? I didn't know you weren't gonna keep talkin' to me."
Mac flashed a sheepish little grin. "I didn't mean to. I think I dozed off in there sitting on the floor."
"Mac … Buddy, that's not good."
"I know. But I woke up, so let's just call it a win, okay, there, Overwatch?"
"When we both get the hell out of the office, then we can count our victories," Jack sighed.
Mac shrugged. "At least the flight took long enough that Foster's probably off duty."
Jack gave a dry, humorless chuckle. "Mac, kid, how's our luck been since we landed in Cairo?"
Mac shifted slightly. "Kinda bullshit?"
"Yeah and Thornton has Foster pulling a double because of his and I quote 'unique skill set,' end quote."
"Are you serious?"
"As a heart attack, kid."
Mac puffed out a long breath. Now Mac wished he'd just come out of the bathroom and put up with being irritated, because between the two of them, they probably could've convinced Thornton and everyone else that things weren't totally dire. And they weren't, they just weren't great.
He wanted to swear, but couldn't even come up with anything that felt remotely adequate.
Instead, he just reached out again and put a hand on Jack's good shoulder. "If you wanna finally bust him in the lip today, pal, I'd consider it a personal favor."
Jack sighed again. But he flexed his good hand.
"I'll definitely keep that in mind."