Mac got back to the stables ahead of the other men.
He got Trigger settled in his stall as quickly as he could.
He was in a hurry to just get into the house. He wasn't sure he could handle any more of Jack and his grandfather's family storytelling, even if they were leaving him out of it. Jack seemed to be trying to, but Pops didn't really have even an inkling of exactly how complicated Mac's history was, beyond that he'd lost his mom when he was very young.
He didn't really feel like joining them for dinner either. He needed a break.
If he got into the house first, he could just claim he hadn't realized how late it was and grabbed something out of his bag while they were out riding too recently to be hungry. And if Jack and Pops were still out here in the barn, no one would be there to contradict him to Nana either. He could just go upstairs and maybe call Nikki, then hit the rack. Even if he didn't go to sleep, spending some time alone in the dark and quiet was pretty appealing.
Besides, the ride might not have been the best idea, even if it hadn't been actively dangerous. He'd felt like most of how knocked around he'd gotten in Cairo was pretty much healed up. He'd picked all his stitches out weeks ago. And his bruises had all faded to vague yellow smudges.
But right now his ribs ached, and his head felt like someone had tried to use the inside of his skull to make a milkshake.
He wasn't even sure that it was physical. He thought maybe it had started when he got to thinking about his last snowy Christmas with his whole family while he was out on the trail listening to Jack and Pops.
He heard the other men heading his way, and threw Trigger's headgear over his shoulder and grabbed his saddle to haul it back to the tack room.
Jack and Pops lead their horses through the door just as a stabbing pain lanced through Mac's whole left side and he dropped the saddle right in the tack room doorway and went down on one knee, gasping.
"Mac!"
Mac's eyes were closed and he was trying to breathe through the sense that someone had just sunk a sword into him.
"I'm okay," he managed, just so Jack would know he wasn't dying or anything.
Definitely shouldn't have gone on that ride, he thought.
But Elliot had seemed pretty sure he was out of the woods as far as the barely detectable internal bruising he'd gotten either from the beating he'd taken or the explosion. It had been so minor, Mac hadn't even bothered mentioning it to Jack. And he was glad, because the man sounded ready to have a freaking panic attack as it was.
He forced his eyes open as the worst of the sharp pain passed. "Hey, could you—"
Jack didn't give him a chance to finish. "Don't you even move, kid." A hand on his shoulder kept Mac from even trying to rise. "Are you dizzy? Do you know where you are? Where's it hurt, kid?"
Irritated with Jack practically pinning him in place, he answered, "No, and the tack room, and where I busted my damn ribs. Lemme up."
"You sure it's your ribs? Because Steve told me you had a bruised spleen which you never mentioned and you probably shouldn't be riding yet, or lifting, and—"
"He what?" Mac asked coldly, his temper flaring. Maybe the usual rules didn't apply when you worked for the government and one of your coworkers was also one of your best friends, who was also your Overwatch and knew you better than maybe anyone else, but Mac was pretty sure HIPPA was still in play regardless. And the bruising had been so minor the CT scan had barely picked it up. And all his labs had been normal before they'd even had the imaging results. There was no reason, none that Mac could think of, that anyone should have said a damn thing to Jack.
He pushed Jack's hand off his shoulder. "I'm fine," he snapped, struggling back to his feet.
"Mac, don't—"
Mac's eyes narrowed. "Don't what? Get off the questionably clean floor while I catch my damn breath?" His argumentative tone was somewhat undercut by his need to lean against the wall as dark spots swam in front of his eyes.
As soon as his hand reached out to steady himself against the tack room wall, he heard Jack say, "Hey Pops, can you go call EMS? Mac kind of got hurt a little at work a few weeks ago and we didn't—"
"No." Mac didn't leave any room for negotiation in his curt interruption. "You don't need to call anybody. I'm okay. Just give me a minute."
"Ignore the kid, Pops and just—"
"Oh for fucks sake," Mac snapped, uncharacteristically colorful and way more sharp than either Jack or his grandfather was used to.
He pushed past both of them, heading toward the house.
"Angus," Pops called.
Jack tried, "Goddamnit, Carl's Junior!"
But Mac kept walking, even though his side hurt enough that he sort of wanted to throw up and he felt just a little short of breath. He took out his phone and sent a quick text on his way to the house, trying to decide if he could drive or if he'd have to call a cab (since there were no ride shares out this far), because there was no way he was going anywhere with Jack Dalton if he and Rodgers had been talking about Mac behind his back like he wasn't practically a quarter century old.
He glanced at the return text with a small amount of relief. But it didn't change what he needed to do next.
When he got to the house it was obvious that Jack or Pops had used the intercom to reach Nana from the barn, because she was standing by the phone like she was about to make a call or had just hung up..
"Angus! Are you alright?"
"I'm okay, Nana. I fell in the tack room," he said mildly, figuring it explained what he needed to do next without being overly dramatic.
"Fell? The gents told me I should call 911!"
Mac glanced up sharply, in the process of changing out of his riding boots. "Did you?"
"Very nearly. But I know how Jack can be. He had me call 911 about Marlene once when she got tossed from a horse and needed all of three stitches."
"I appreciate that. I hurt my ribs a couple weeks ago, and the ride aggravated them I think. So I lost my footing in the barn. Jack and Pops freaked out about it. It's nothing to freak out about, but I think I should find an urgent care place to make sure I didn't knock anything loose. Horses that are older than their riders are bumpy trips," he said with a reassuring smile.
Nana put a hand on his shoulder. "Dr. Williams makes house calls. You don't need to go—"
"Does he have an office or clinic? I don't want to inconvenience anyone. And I might need x-rays."
She nodded. "He does. They'll be closing in a while. Want me to call and let him know you're coming in?"
"Thanks, Nana. That'd be great. I think I'm okay. But I should make sure. Do any taxi services come out this far? I don't know if I know my way around town well enough not to get lost."
"I'm not sure. Let me get Dr. Williams first. Then we can talk about how to get you there."
Mac took that to mean she thought he was going to let Jack or Pops drive him. But he wasn't. He couldn't handle a ride anywhere with anyone freaking out about what was almost definitely nothing. And he was furious with Jack for talking to Steve behind his back. If his side didn't hurt, he might have been willing to have a sequel to their first meeting over it.
Jack more or less burst through the door then with Pops trailing hesitantly behind him, just as Nana was dialing the phone and Mac was pulling on his hiking boots.
"Damnit, kid. What do you think you're doin'?"
Mac didn't look at him, just focused on tying his shoes. "Getting ready to go into town," he said coolly.
Jack stood in front of him, uncomfortably close, something he used to do all the time when they first started working together. Mac had always hated that. It felt like an intimidation tactic. He thought he'd broken Jack of the habit years ago.
"You're not moving, kid. You looking to rupture your spleen and bleed to death? We're waiting for somebody who could do something about that to take you anywhere." he said angrily.
Mac stood then, this time stepping into Jack's space and meeting his eye with an icy blue stare. "I'm going to see the town doctor to make sure I didn't do anything stupid to my ribs. Because if I had anything other than a spasm from using muscles I don't normally use on that ride, that's all it is."
"Mac—"
"What you're going to do is stay out of my way."
Jack's mouth dropped open a little at the tone that came out of his friend's mouth then. Shades of the angry, closed off teenager he'd met years ago. "Mac, you can't just—"
Nana interrupted then, looking worried and Mac assumed it was because of the palpable tension between him and her grandson at the moment. "Angus, I let Doc Williams' nurse know you were heading over but they close at six so you'll need to hurry a bit. No one's answering at the taxi service. It's just a little family business. They're closed until after Christmas according to the message."
Mac sighed. He'd have to hope Siri wouldn't steer him wrong then. The app wasn't always great in more rural areas. He stepped away from his conflict with Jack and turned to give her another reassuring smile, "Thanks for calling for me, Nana. Could I borrow the truck then?"
"Of course, honey," she said in a tone that was almost a question. She could see Angus thought Jack had overreacted, but couldn't quite read the tense anger that had blossomed between the two of them because of it.
"I'll drive," Jack growled, moving toward the board by the door that had all the ranch's keys on labeled hooks.
Mac was close on his heels. "I don't need an escort, Jack."
"Well you're getting one anyway, Carl's Junior. If you're gonna be too stubborn to do what you ought to, I'm at least gonna be there to try to keep you from dying from it if you keel over," Jack snapped.
"Fine." Mac pushed past him and got into the truck parked just off the side of the front porch, slamming the door, and fixing his eyes out the window.
They rode all the way across town in a tense silence Jack wasn't sure how to break.
0-0-0
Jack slid the truck into park and reached to turn off the engine.
"You're not coming in there with me," Mac said, his tone indicating that he was only speaking because he had to.
Jack sighed heavily. "Why do you have to make things so damn difficult sometimes, huh, kid?"
Mac looked at Jack for exactly long enough that he saw the young man's eyes flash. "I'm the one making things difficult?" His face heated in renewed anger. "I got what was almost definitely a freaking muscle cramp and you were ready to call out the whole damn town's volunteer rescue squad to haul me all the way to Austin!"
"Because you could be bleeding internally, dumbass!"
Mac's lips pressed together in a thin line before he responded. "That's ridiculous."
"Steve said—"
Mac's jaw tightened. "Anything Steve said was none of your damn business to begin with."
Jack could feel anger coming off Mac in waves. And now that he'd had the ride over here, he was pretty sure the kid was okay, but damned if he wasn't pissed that he would take a risk like that. Mac was too damn smart to just be ignoring the possibility that it was something serious after Steve had clearly been worried about it.
"Mac, lookin' out for you is my business—"
"Jack, just knock it off."
Mac looked straight ahead through the windshield at the lights in the small house-turned-doctor's office in front of them.
After a solid minute, Mac spoke again.
"You know my mom died when I was in kindergarten."
The way Mac said it, like he was just telling Jack what the weather had been on an uninteresting Sunday sometime in his past, like he'd relayed it a thousand times, made Jack's stomach clench in sudden sympathy. His irritation dissolved in a split second. Something big was going on in that ginormous brain, or else Mac would never have said those words out loud. Mac had only ever said anything about his past when he was really hurt or upset.
"Yeah, you told me about that a long time ago," Jack said carefully.
"And I told you my father left when I was ten."
The same empty tone.
"Yeah, yeah, you did."
"Did I tell you it was on my birthday?"
"Mac, no, I didn't—"
Mac talked over him, his words gathering speed. "Did I tell you that one of the last things he ever said to me was that it was time for me to stop being a child? That he just couldn't handle it?"
"I … Oh, Mac, man, I'm—"
"Did I tell you that my grandfather couldn't handle me either? He tried. But I didn't want to move to LA. I didn't want to leave Boze. Ten wasn't a good year for him either. So I moved in with Bozer's family. I spent summers with Gramps and he visited all the time, but even when he retired he wanted to stay in LA. Even when I left the army to take care of him, he didn't seem all that interested in having me around 24/7."
"I," Jack began again, but just stopped.
"I never talked to my dad after the day he left. I sort of figured Harry knew where he was, knew how to reach him after a while. But by the time I'd figured that out, I didn't want to know."
Mac went quiet for a few minutes, then he started talking again in the same almost colorless voice at first. But as he went on, it gained heat.
"This one time, I hurt my knee skateboarding when I was in middle school. Gramps never admitted to talking to my dad. He just got really pushy about me having surgery to fix it up instead of just doing rehab for it." Mac paused again. "I got in a big fight with Gramps about it. I accused him of talking to my father and not telling me. I said that I didn't have parents and that no one who wasn't around all the time got to make my decisions for me. So then he even roped Bozer's parents into pushing about it, too. And we had an even bigger fight about everyone ganging up on me even when I'd already made up my damn mind to do what they wanted anyway."
"So, he was still—"
Mac acted like he hadn't heard Jack, and from the look on the kid's face, maybe he hadn't.
"Right before Gramps died … My father left a voicemail on the house phone." Mac sighed quietly. "Basically he said that it was Harry's fault that I'd moved in with the Bozers instead of staying where they could both keep an eye on me, his fault that I dropped out of MIT and joined the army. He even told him it was his fault that we were living at the cabin and not dealing with," Mac swallowed like the words tasted bad. "Not dealing with my mental problems from the war."
"Holy shit, kid."
Mac still kept talking likeJack hadn't spoken.
"He said Harry needed to call him back because the whole situation was just like what happened with my knee when I was a kid. That I obviously needed someone competent in my life to take care of things. Again. Whatever the hell that means. And they'd need to decide how to make that happen."
"Jesus, Mac. What did you do?"
He sighed softly. "I deleted the message and blocked the number, Jack. I didn't tell Harry about it." The next sigh was more audible.
Jack was thoughtful for a few minutes. "Why are you telling me all this now, kid?"
"Because, you're doing the same thing! No matter what any of you think about me, I can take care of myself. I've been doing it since I was ten years old!" His voice broke then, but he bit down on it. "If I could do it then, I can obviously do it now."
"Mac, buddy, I'm sorry. I didn't … none of us meant to make you feel like we don't think you can take care of yourself…" Jack had almost used the affectionate "kid" but thought better of it. "I guess maybe…"
"What?" Mac managed not to snap, but just barely.
Jack sighed heavily. "Something I realized when I started watching your back, was that you didn't even know what that meant. That you … expected to be on your own. And that you didn't seem to think you deserved not to be." He ran a hand over his short hair. "And you … You're still like that a lot of the time, Mac."
Mac met his eyes but didn't say anything.
"It's not that we don't all think that you can take care of yourself just fine. You just sometimes forget you're worth taking care of … I guess maybe we all go too far trying to make sure you remember."
Mac rolled his eyes, but his expression softened a fraction. "So you admit to having gone too far."
"Well…"
Mac's eyes hardened again. "I'm trying not to be pissed here. So, one more time, for the cheap seats: I'm a grown ass man. I can make my own decisions. And if they're bad ones, that's on me. I don't need you or anyone else talking about me behind my back and pushing me in the direction you think I should go."
Jack just gave him kind of a hurt look.
Mac didn't look at him when he spoke again. "Now you know everything. Stuff I never talk about. And the only reason I said any of it was so you understand that I can look out for myself. I have since I barely remember starting. I need an Overwatch in the field, not on vacation."
Jack shook his head. "Mac, buddy, you know it don't work like that. Never has."
Mac folded his arms. "And it's always driven me nuts." He looked Jack in the eye again, trying hard not to be angry or defensive at this point, but feeling a good bit of both. "You know what I was going to say back in the tack room before you freaked out?"
Jack pulled back in his seat almost warily. "What's that?"
"I was going to ask you to help me up. And then I was going to ask if you guys knew if there was an urgent care place around because I might have aggravated an injury."
Jack frowned. "Were you really?"
"Yes! Jackass!" He still sounded irritated, but memories of how quickly Jack Dalton had gone from 'kick this skinny bomb nerd's ass' to 'don't you even look at this kid funny or I'll kill you,' were all playing in his head. "I really was. I called Elliot and talked to him about even going out for that ride, just in case he thought it might still be risky! I texted him after I hurt, too. He said exactly what I thought. That the bruising has been so minor he was sure that was fine but I should probably make sure I didn't loosen my rib fractures. So I asked Nana about seeing someone as soon as I got in the house! You may have noticed that I'm not an idiot." He took a breath. "Sometimes … not as often as you accuse me of it … but sometimes … I ignore things. In the field. Because I have a job to do. But we're on vacation, Jack. I'm not about to ignore what could be a real injury and wind up ruining everyone's holiday."
Jack shook his head. "Okay. But you just kinda proved my point for me."
Mac made the half squinting, half smirking face Jack always read as Mac not understanding Jack-speak and being irritated by the lack of understanding. "You'd have owned up to maybe being hurt because you were worried you'd ruin the holiday, not because you were actually lookin' out for yourself."
Mac threw his hands up in exasperation. "What difference does that make! You were still going to get what you wanted! You're worse than Gramps!"
Jack chewed his lip at that. This was actually a much more complicated knot of Mac stuff than he'd anticipated. Maybe more than he could unravel tonight. Nana might have some ideas, but right now, Jack didn't. So, instead of trying, he just said, "I'm sorry, man. I guess I went way overboard. I'd like to tell you I didn't mean to, but we both know I'm kinda wired that way. I'm still sorry though."
"Okay."
After a minute, Jack asked, "So, you still pissed at me?"
Mac nodded slowly. "I think I kind of am."
"What're you gonna do? Hop a flight outta here?" Jack said, only half kidding.
Mac hesitated, but glanced Jack's way and nearly grinned. "There's nothing available. I checked on the way here."
Jack kind of smiled a bit, too. "So …you gonna rent a car and drive back to LA?"
Mac snorted a laugh and rolled his eyes then. "I might if I were old enough to rent a damn car, but I'd have to sit here until spring." He got all the way to a real smile then, though it was fleeting. "Besides, I don't want to miss out on Christmas dinner."
"I really am sorry, Mac."
This time Mac nodded. "Thanks."
"I mean it."
"I accept your apology, Jesus, Jack."
Jack sat quietly for a half a minute. He really did feel bad. Not so much for having maybe gone too far when Mac went down in the tack room, but for his reaction having brought up all of Mac's family stuff for the kid, for reminding him how much he'd been alone. For making Mac think that Jack didn't believe he could handle himself. Mac was honestly the most competent person Jack had ever known. He'd have to be more careful.
He flashed a big teasing grin. "I'm just makin' sure there, Carl's Junior. I know how pranky you get when you're real pissed. I don't wanna wind up covered in glitter glue on Christmas morning, kid."
Mac actually really grinned back. "I'm not saying I've forgiven you far enough to spare you a revenge prank. I'm torn between green and red or silver and gold at the moment though, so…"
Jack punched him lightly on the arm. "Nana would never forgive you."
Mac smirked. "You know I'm her favorite. Nana would buy me the glitter."
Jack chuckled and shook his head. "She probly would at that, kid."
Mac glanced at his watch. If he didn't go inside now, the place would be closing soon. And he was pretty sure he was alright now that he'd had a little while. He'd probably just irritated his cracked ribs like he'd first thought. But, like he told Jack, he wasn't an idiot. So the fact that he'd had even a mild internal injury from Cairo meant he should get checked out. And he really didn't want to have to let Jack drive him all the way to the emergency room in Austin.
He put his hand on the door handle. Then he looked at Jack. "You wanna come inside?"
"Yeah?"
He nodded. "Yeah. It's cold out here and you know how much I hate waiting around these places anyway. Besides, they know you. I figure maybe you've clocked one of them at some point so getting in and out as fast as I'd like to is more likely if you tag along to the waiting room. What's the point of having an Overwatch who doesn't know how to be off duty if I can't benefit from his ability to be intimidating?"
Jack laughed and took the keys out of the ignition. "You're a real little shit, Carl's Junior."
And Jack knew then that they were okay again. He was glad for a lot of reasons. But he really didn't want the kid to take off and miss what the family had in store for him on Christmas morning.