"Ugh," Mac groaned.
He'd sort of known there was a pretty nasty pain in his head, even in his sleep. He'd been dreaming of the aftermath of his team's hunt for Tesla's weapon. It had been an awful dream, but the worst part had been that, in it, he could feel the headache he'd had for days after agreeing to be dosed with that experimental DARPA drug.
Now that he was semi-awake, he had to acknowledge this headache wasn't nearly that bad, but it was bad enough that the dream made a lot more sense.
He didn't dare open his eyes yet. He could tell it was bright and he thought if he did, he might be sick. This was like a migraine on steroids.
"You back with us, kid?"
It sounded like Jack was sitting right next to him.
"Unfortunately." He tried opening his eyes but the light sent stabbing pain through his whole head. "Ah, hell ... Sunglasses?"
"In the car. I'll be right back."
It was quiet, so he knew it must be early morning. It was light out, because he could see red through his eyelids and it looked more like natural light than the fluorescent bulbs in the motel lamps, but there wasn't even much noise from the parking lot when Jack went in and out of the door.
No one else was in the room. Mac could tell. There was a difference between someone just being quiet and the sound of their absence.
He was grateful he wasn't waking up to company. He was familiar with what to expect from Jack in this situation. But he didn't feel up to managing the unknown quantity that Reacher and Neagley represented. Not until he could think straight anyway.
When Jack returned with the sunglasses, he put them directly in Mac's hand so he didn't have to open his eyes to grab them. Once Mac had them on, he carefully opened his eyes. It wasn't great, but he could function. He pushed himself up to sitting with the hand on the side that didn't currently feel like it had been run over by a delivery truck, and swung his feet over the edge of the bed. He wanted to get up to use the bathroom and wash the nasty taste out of his mouth, but the minute he got upright, he got dizzy.
He decided to stay put for a minute rather than trying to move too fast and give himself away.
"Thanks, man. My head feels like after that time in Dublin."
Jack sat down in the chair that was next to the bed and Mac had a sneaking suspicion that if Jack had slept at all after last night's improvised surgery, it had been in that chair.
Jack flashed a rueful grin, "New rule. What happens in Dublin stays in Dublin."
Mac laughed even though it hurt his head. "I mean since we don't remember at least half of it, that's pretty easy."
Jack contemplated him for a few seconds. "Speaking of remembering, you remember the stuff you said last night?"
Mac frowned. "What stuff?"
"After Reacher dosed you with that junk."
He shook his head. "Honestly Jack, I don't remember much past trying to decide what to do ... I sort of remember doing something with ... chairs?"
Jack unconsciously worried the scruff on his jaw for a minute. "You don't remember Reacher coming back?"
Mac shook his head. "I mean ... Sort of? I know I really didn't want to get knocked out with something he lifted out of ... a vet's office?" He half-said, half-asked. When Jack nodded, he went on. "But I do kind of remember agreeing to it ... then nothing."
Now Jack wasn't sure he should say anything, but the stuff Mac said before he finally let the drugs pull him under, even some of the stuff he'd mumbled in his sleep, sent ripples of disquiet all through the older man.
Not that people couldn't say some weird shit all doped up. But Jack hadn't ever seen Mac like that. Not in all the years he'd known him.
"You, um, you seemed like you were having kind of a hard time at first."
"It didn't just knock me out?"
Jack's lips flickered into almost a smile. "Since when do you ever do anything the easy way, Angus?"
Mac gave a little eye roll but Jack couldn't see it from behind the sun glasses. "What did I say?"
Jack hesitated. He decided to leave out the stuff about Mac's family and whoever the hell Gwen was. "Some stuff about another Mac that was real strange. You were talkin about him like he was there in the room. We couldn't tell if you were talkin to him or to us, to be honest."
Mac swallowed hard. "Weird."
He hadn't told anyone about seeing that other version of himself, or much of anything about that dreamstate. He'd told them what they needed to know to get to Shiva first, and that was about it.
Besides, that was what everybody cared about. Not what the drug had been like. Out of everyone, Boze had been the most concerned. But he'd dropped it like a hot rock once the mission was back on.
He stood carefully.
"I'll be back in a sec."
He went into the bathroom and shut the door, leaning on the counter to stay upright. Other Mac? Not just while I was asleep? No, no. No way. He stopped coming around after the dam. This cannot start happening again.
He took off the sunglasses to look himself in the eyes.
He was pale, his eyes a little bloodshot, and he looked as tired as he felt. But he also looked sober, rational, and about like he expected to after catching a bullet and having some low-rent motel room surgery to deal with it.
No matter what anybody who would do it for fun thinks, ketamine is a powerful drug. The dissociation probably just made room for some shitty memories to come through. And if the way Jack looks is any indication, you talked about more than Suit Mac. There's no reason to get worried about it.
This is why I hate being medicated.
Mac splashed some water on his face, dried it off, and decided the headache was still bad enough for the sunglasses. Besides, if Jack wanted to talk about whatever he mumbled while under the influence, the shades gave him a little privacy.
He knew Jack was good at reading his eyes. He was always saying how most people's eyes were the windows to their soul but that Mac's were also a broadcasting tower for his feelings.
He decided to take care of the rest of his morning routine, even borrowing a cap of mouthwash from the travel-size bottle on the counter. Then he took a deep breath and headed back into the room.
Mac casually sat in the chair that had found its way back to the room's small table and fished a water out of the cooler.
Jack gave him a look, but brought his own chair over to the table.
Mac said, almost overly casually, "You ready to tell me about this case you died for this morning?"
The look intensified. "We could wait until you're not squinting even behind those sunglasses."
"Jack."
Jack sighed slightly. "How about a prisoner exchange? I'll tell you a little about the case, you tell me a little about why this other Mac didn't sound like a new acquaintance."
Mac leaned back in the chair, fighting the urge to cross his arms. The injured side should almost definitely be in a sling, and Mac thought he might cheerfully sell his soul for a couple of Advil at the moment, but he felt defensive, and uncomfortable. "I mean, I guess."
"Great. You first."
"Like Hell, Jack. Do you have any idea what you've put us through, put me through? Cough up some answers, or the only thing I'll tell you is the phone number of a good dentist. Because you're gonna need one." He flashed a slightly teasing grin to soften his strident tone. "Punk."
Jack shook his head. Jesus, I missed this kid. "First, Mac, I ... I know what this'll be like for you to hear ... but I'm not sure we can go to anyone we've been connected to before for this. I'm not the only one that got taken out by whoever is behind this. And those other boxes that made it home to be buried had more than ballast in them." He took a ragged breath. "Reason I didn't reach out to you sooner is, well, everybody I even tried to get ahold of, even just left a message for, no matter how I tried to make it sound like reaching out had nothing to do with what I was lookin into, all of 'em turned up dead."
"Jesus." Mac swallowed hard.
Jack kicked back and folded his arms. "Okay, Junior, Squid GoPro."
Mac sniffed a laugh, then rubbed his temples. "Quid pro quo," he corrected almost automatically, almost positive Jack was just being funny, but not sure enough to let it go. "That wasn't much intel."
"So don't tell me too much then if that makes you happy."
Mac sighed. He supposed everything with Codex and the aftermath was something he had to tell Jack about at some point.
The stuff with Dr. Werner was actually one of the easier parts of the story to tell.
He rubbed slightly sweaty palms on the legs of his khakis and made a face when he realized he'd bled on them last night. And his t-shirt was half shredded. He was going to need to find a change of clothes somewhere.
These were my favorite pants, too, damn it.
He looked at Jack then away again. Even if Jack couldn't see his eyes, there was no way he was telling him everything he'd seen in that dream in the Phoenix lab, and he was irrationally convinced that Jack would know, and press the point.
"So, we were up against this terrorist group called Codex..."
Mac launched into an abbreviated recap (with family details omitted), of their going down a rabbit hole of what felt to him like truly improbable intrigue that wound him up in Nicola Tesla's cottage knocked out cold, and what they'd done to try to recover his memory so they could get to Shiva first.
Because he'd been kind of avoiding looking at Jack while he talked, he'd missed all the signs of Jack working up a head of steam about the story.
Finally, Jack interrupted and it snapped Mac's attention fully back onto his partner's face.
"So you're telling me you got in a fight with a gang of doomsday terrorists, got hit hard enough to get amnesia, like in the movies amnesia, then Matty forces some experimental drug on you?!?"
Mac shifted in his seat. "She said I didn't have to."
Jack glared, but Mac could tell the ire wasn't directed at him.
"Was there really any way you could refuse? Based on what she said?"
Mac shook his head slightly. "We needed to find that weapon before Codex, and when I woke up it had already been hours. Matty's friend was already there ready to go so--"
"So you were out for hours and you woke up at Medical with Matty's mad scientist friend there just locked and loaded to mess with your noggin?"
Mac frowned, and even though it hurt his head, he couldn't quite wipe away the expression. "I didn't wake up in Medical. Matty had me brought to the lab when the team came in."
Mac had actually been pretty shocked to find himself in the lab that day. And he'd had a concussion, there was no doubt in his mind, so nobody should've been giving him anything psychoactive. He shouldn't have been put under physical or mental stress either. And he sure as shit shouldn't have been making serious decisions. Considering how long he'd been out, he should have woken up at Medical. He probably should have seen a neurologist and quite possibly gotten a scan to check for bleeding, at least. Hell, based on how long he was out, he maybe even should have been admitted for observation.
But that's not what happened.
Nobody even said anything when he just went home after everything happened. Not even Riley.
He almost expected Jack to yell about it. But he didn't. He got very quiet. "Did anybody do anything to make sure you were okay?"
Mac shrugged. "We got the weapon. And we did kinda save a lot of people with it. Eventually."
"I didn't ask you if you saved the world again, Boy Scout. You don't need somebody else's fancy toys for that. You do that all the time with just your little red knife." Jack gave him such a serious look, Mac shifted again. "I'm talkin about you, kid. Did anybody so much as shine a penlight in your eyes that day?"
Mac didn't so much sigh as he took a breath and kind of deflated. He'd almost felt bad enough to just go to Medical without anyone suggesting it to him. He'd also thought about calling Elliot after he got home. But the truth was, he couldn't stand the idea of anyone else in his space that night, for days afterward. He didn't say any of that though.
"Desi made me soup."
"Jesus, Mac." Jack's head dropped for a second and he scrubbed both hands over his head. "If I'd had any idea, any at all, that this was what your life was gonna look like without me watching your back, I woulda told your old man to take his orders to go on that task force and stick 'em where the sun don't shine."
Mac stopped rubbing his forehead. "What?"
"I shouldn't have left. I should have known it was bullshit."
Mac shook his aching head. "No, no, no. Back up." His stomach suddenly did the kind of slow roll that made him swallow a couple of times. And he didn't think it was from the hangover the anesthetic had left him with. "What do you mean Oversight ordered you? I thought it was a military thing you got invited in on, that you felt obligated to go?"
"Yeah, well, that's what I was ordered to say," he bit out, furious with a dead man for demanding it, and even more furious with himself for going along with it. His eyes flicked to Mac's, then away again. "It's why you couldn't come with me," he said softly.
Mac felt like he'd swallowed an ice block made of Pop Rocks and soda. "He ... Was he the one who sent you all the pictures, got you digging to begin with?"
Jack shrugged. But he still wasn't quite looking at his partner. "Matty could never track it down."
Mac's forehead creased and it made the thudding there worse. "Are you sure she wasn't in on that?"
Jack finally looked back at him. "I ... No, she wouldn't have snuck around like that. She'd have come at me straight and just said, hey, Jackass, new orders, get your ass on a plane."
Mac got to his feet and started to pace. "How sure are you? Because you have to remember when she first came on ... She was constantly trying to split us up ... constantly questioning our methods ... always siding with Oversight ... Bringing in Cage ... And I don't know what changed ... But even once it did, I still never trusted it ... I was right, too because she never got in the way of Oversight sending us off on separate missions and--"
Mac got dizzy and had a choice between sitting back down or falling on his ass. He managed to get back into the chair with a couple of slightly unsteady steps.
Jack raised both eyebrows. "You okay, kid?"
Mac shook his head, then nodded. The confused gesture perfectly represented how the inside of his head felt at the moment. He took a slow breath, willing himself back to calm. "You don't think she was part of it?" he asked much more levelly.
Jack shook his head. "If it all happened earlier, I mighta maybe wondered. But things changed after--" He stopped abruptly.
"After what?"
"After Paris. She ... I don't know ... Not that she went against Oversight or anything. But she got more protective of our team, of you. I think maybe the stuff with Murdoc..."
"Jack, just say what you're thinking," Mac demanded, not especially liking how strident he sounded, but not necessarily able to help it.
"I think maybe that was when she saw that Oversight's decisions, whatever 'this is for Angus's own good' line he was feeding her, didn't quite ring true. Because, Mac, buddy, like I'm glad you made some peace with your old man before he passed and all, but..."
Mac sighed heavily and propped his good elbow on the table so he could rest his head on his hand. "Not much he ever did was actually for my good." He took a sudden ragged breath. "I don't know how much you know about how he died ... But he ... He sacrificed himself so I could get away from Codex ... So I could try to stop them."
He had to stop for a minute and squeeze his eyes shut. Then he made himself go on. Jack Dalton might be the only person in the world he could say this out loud to, because he'd barely let himself even think it up until this morning.
"But sometimes, it just felt like another choice he was taking away from me. A last act of control and I-" This time he had to stop because the word became almost a sob and even squeezing his eyes shut didn't stop a few tears from finding their way out.
Jack reached out and gave Mac's forearm a reassuring squeeze. "I'm so sorry, man. For ... Shit ... All of it really."
Mac nodded a couple of times, just trying to get back on top of what he was feeling. Because he had too much to do, to think about, to deal with all of this now. But he had a growing, sick certainty that his father had sent Jack away (and tried to break up their team unsuccessfully before that) because he'd gotten jealous of Jack. And another part of him started to wonder if there might even be more to it than that. But he couldn't worry about things he didn't have evidence for.
He absently wiped his face and sat back up fully. "Some time, I'll tell you all of it. But right now, I'm more worried about the living." He stretched his neck from side to side, trying to ease the headache that had now ratcheted up a notch with suppressed tears. "You really don't think Matty is involved?"
Jack shook his head. "I might be kinda pissed at her for not pushing back harder on some of the shit Oversight pulled the last few years, because if anybody coulda called him on it, it woulda been her. But in my heart of hearts, no. I don't believe she's part of whatever this is." He gave a firm nod. "Matilda Webber can't be compromised."
Mac looked at him thoughtfully. "Is that why you made me promise to put that painting in her house? Not some prank, but because you knew it would be safe?"
"It crossed my mind." Jack grinned crookedly. "But it woulda been funny either way."
He smiled and shook his head. "Okay, I'm officially not dreaming. You're really back. Because even my subconscious couldn't come up with that accurate a Jack Daltonism."
Jack returned the smile, but his was a little more hesitant. "I'm glad I'm really back, kid. And I'm sorry all you've had is a dream of real back-up for so long."
Mac frowned as something important occurred to him. "When you were thinking about trying to make contact earlier this week ... Did you call me? Leave messages with no voice ... just music."
"Nah, man. I wasn't sure how I wanted to handle it. I knew it was gonna be a shock, and probably be dangerous. I hadn't made up my mind how to make contact."
Mac rubbed his temples. "I wish I could think straight this morning. Because somebody did call me, and the music was Metallica. It was the first thing that made me think you might be alive. Well ... I don't know ... But it was part of it."
"I'm sorry those meds are still messin with you, but I'm glad we had them for getting that bullet out." Jack paused. "How's the arm?"
Mac shrugged. "Sore." Then he admitted, "But honestly the headache is worse at the moment."
Jack raised an eyebrow. That was awfully honest. The kid must really feel like shit.
"Just a headache? Anything else?" he prodded.
Mac half-smiled again. He thought about just changing the subject, but it was honestly so damned nice to have someone give a damn for a non-mission related reason. He shrugged with his good side. "Dizzy off and on. Kind of nauseous. I can't tell if that's separate though or if this is just a migraine. I haven't had one in a long time, but that's kind of what this feels like."
Jack's head tilted to one side. He was right. Mac had both been and felt on his own for way too long if he was just owning up like that this morning, especially after how defensive he'd gotten last night. "You think anything would help? There's a convenience store up the street."
Mac thought about it. It was hard to get his brain functioning the way he wanted this morning. And the vague unease left by his dreams ... hallucinations ... whatever they were, the insidious voice of the Other Mac, who he thought he'd effectively boxed up after Codex was neutralized, were making it even harder. But, as usual, he'd proven hard to knock out, so, dreams notwithstanding, he wasn't all that surprised to be experiencing a hangover from it. His face scrunched with the effort of pulling obscure information that he'd never filed away as important out of the haze. "I wish I could have a coffee but I think I remember reading that caffeine is a bad idea ... electrolytes would be good ... hydration ... Maybe some Gatorade and Tylenol? If you don't mind going out."
Jack gave him a look, and for a second Mac could see Jack's grandfather in it. It was the "don't be a dumbass" look he'd give you if you walked behind one of the horses or weren't paying attention around the farm equipment.
"Of course I don't mind goin out. I told ya, you've got your Overwatch back." He gave Mac a long look. "I know you're gonna say you don't want 'em. But I'm gonna get you some crackers or something, too. Maybe eating something easy would help."
Mac nodded. Jack was right. He didn't want to eat anything, but there was some wisdom in getting something simple in his stomach. Low blood sugar was not going to help how he felt or how his brain was operating.
"That's a good idea even if I don't want them," he acknowledged. The like some cobwebs cleared just because they'd made something of a plan to get him fully back on his feet, he finally thought to ask. "Hey, where are Reacher and Neagley?"
"They took off before sun up to get on that bullet and our little crime scene this morning." He grinned. "I'm right where I'm supposed to be. On Mac duty. And once you're feeling a little more like yourself, we can start going through all the intel I've put together."
Mac half smiled. "I appreciate it. Really." He paused. "I'm sorry I got so ... I don't know ... sharp with you last night. I know you were just looking out."
Jack stood and flashed Mac a grin. "You always get pissy if you're hurt and can't hide it, Genius. You think I wasn't ready for that?"
Mac sniffed a slight laugh. "And you always get grouchy as hell when I'm hurt, so I should've been ready for that."
"I maybe do." Jack chuckled. "Let's just agree neither of us was at our best and try not to catch any more bullets."
Mac held out his fist and Jack bumped it. "Hey, you want the sunglasses for a little cover? There's street cams all over town for the self-driving cars. If anyone's scanning for you, it might at least slow them down."
"Good call, but don't you need 'em for the headache?"
Mac shook his head. "I think I'm gonna lay down and close my eyes for a few while you're gone. I'm beat. That can be a side effect, too."
He got to his feet carefully, hoping to not set off another wave of that odd seasick feeling he kept having this morning. Jack got up too, kind of on his elbow, so Mac knew he looked as unsteady as he still felt. Laying back down for a little bit was probably a really good idea.
And he really did have the best intentions when Jack left the room.
But after about five minutes of laying there, listening to the sounds of people waking, doors banging, cars leaving, sirens in the distance, he started to get more fidgety than tired. Even though his brain still felt kind of boozy and achy, he still had a lot to think about from his conversation with Jack, not the least of which were now more actively wondering if his father had sent Jack on a suicide mission just to break up their team, and why the hell Other Mac had decided to make a reappearance.
He sighed softly and opened his eyes.
It felt a little less like somebody was jamming an ice pick into his frontal lobe, so he sat up.
Telly Savalas was staring at him from across the room.
No wonder I had nightmares.
He laughed to himself and shook his head.
Maybe he should take a shower, change the bandages on his arm.
But that damn painting kept catching his eye.
After another minute, he just gave in to his curiosity, got up, brought it over to the table and sliced through the backing paper.
He pulled out the legal-sized mailing envelope, set aside the painting, and started sorting through the contents while he waited for Jack to return.