Chapter Text
It was a whole different kind of day when they arrived back at base.
The guys that had picked them up found the whole situation somewhat humorous amongst how serious it had been. Just the mere fact that they, one of the most respected team out there, had been blind sighted by a single person, got laughs.
“Damn man. One guy got you down? You’re losing your touch, Dalton. Never woulda thought— specially to a little guy like that. How’d he manage to get a hand on you?”
Jack just all of them to fuck off and left it at that. He knew Mac was still reeling with the whole thing, and while he understood because he had been in that situation before, the seriousness of the whole situation was a whole lot less amusing from the other side’s perspective.
Mac had been silent the whole ride back, still most likely deep in thought about what happened. Jack thought he could maybe, maybe fully convince Mac that he was actually the one to kill the person. He would definitely have to talk to him about the whole thing, knowing that it definitely had an effect on him, but he wasn’t that worried about that.
Jack didn’t know how to approach the fact that Mac had shot him.
He didn’t blame Mac for his action at all. He was actually very proud of the whole thing; he’d seen Mac do maintenance on his side piece, but up until that point, he never saw Mac fire. And of course the one time he did, it had to be at Jack, and right on target as well. If Jack didn’t have that deck of cards and if Mac’s aim had been off, the injury would’ve been so much worse.
Jack didn’t know if he himself had processed what had happened.
They had little time to communicate when they reached base, both being called in to report what happened. It wasn’t anywhere out of the ordinary; anything that qualified as a major incident usually forwent guys from writing their own reports and had someone else in the officer tent writing down everything said. It was always fine.
That time would be different.
“Let me do the talkin. I know what you’d say and it’s wrong.”
“No you don’t.”
“Yer gonna say that you killed someone and then shot me.”
“I did.”
“Pretty sure that I’m the one that killed that guy after he shot me while I was comin back to get you.”
“You can’t— that’s not what happened.”
“It is; yer word against mine. Sorry to say but I’m the excellent marksman and you’ve never fired a gun, let alone at a person. Based on that, me takin out that guy after being shot is way more believable than what actually happened.”
“You can’t lie about it.”
“You really are too innocent for yer own good. People lie about things all the time, Mac. It’s human nature. Besides do you really think Uncle Sam has been a hundred percent honest with us? Me tellin a white lie bout what actually happened won’t affect anythin. We’re the only witnesses.”
It happened like any other debrief they had, surprisingly. Jack had taken the reins on it, saying he stashed Mac to make for the the sat phone and took out the enemy upon arrival, as well as stating the information they were given was vastly different than the location itself, which played a heavy part in why the mission turned out as it did. When asked if Mac had anything to add or clarify, he did what he normally did— corrected one or two minor details but otherwise didn’t say anything about what really happened.
Jack did feel like he persuaded, more so convinced, Mac that it didn’t matter what he said, and it made him feel even more horrible than he already did. That whole situation was on him because of the calls he made and actions he made Mac do; mainly the fact of forcing Mac to wield and use a gun despite knowing how he felt about them. It might’ve been for Mac’s own safety, but it might’ve done irreparable damage.
The mood around them for the rest of the day was lulled, not in the good way. Everyone they interacted with could tell they had a rough day. Questions were asked but no one pushed the matter. Both of them had settled in the bunks as well as they could for a while, and when it was finally time to turn in for the night, Mac was nowhere to be seen, and that was a problem.
Jack had been laying on his bunk counting the minutes and waiting for Mac to reenter. He was trying to give him space, knowing he wasn’t exactly pleased with everything that had happened, but given Mac’s prior mental state, he wasn’t keen on leaving him alone for much longer as the night went on.
“Where’s your other half, Tex?” Patrick asked as he rummaged through his things.
“Dunno.” A small head shake and sigh. “Blowin off steam probably.”
“That bad today?”
“Yeah… it was— somethin else completely.”
“Heard it was bad but that there was more guys giving you shit about getting got by one guy. What happened?”
Jack thought for a moment, debating on telling Patrick what actually happened. He didn’t know why he thought it best to keep the day a secret. It would’ve been a hassle of paperwork, but other than that—
No. That wasn’t right. He knew word would get around, knew everyone would talk about Mac wielding a gun and shooting someone.
Knew Mac would be the guy known as refusing to hold a weapon and the one time he did, it was to shoot his watch.
His chest hurt, and it occurred to him that he hadn’t even gone to med to get himself checked out.
He couldn’t do that to Mac. He wouldn’t. Mac already had so much to deal with, some Jack knew and most he didn’t. He wasn’t going to put more on his unnecessary trouble on his mind.
“A lot happened today. Don’t think I’m ready to quite talk bout it.”
“Okay man. I’m here when you decide you’re ready to.”
Jack waited another few minutes before heading out. He needed to talk to Mac about the whole thing, for both of their sakes.
Before that, he thought it best to head to med, to have Roe check him out to quell any worry that will most definitely stem from Mac.
Med was empty, somewhat of a rarity on base. There was always at least one patient on a cot. The only one inside when Jack entered was Doc Roe himself, commandeering a cot himself with a book.
“Shouldn’t you be workin?” Humor in Jack’s tone as he entered.
Roe side eyed him before going back to his book. “I don’t know about you but I quite like it when there aren’t people with possible life threatening injuries.”
“Okay I’ll give ya that.”
“So it begs the question,” Roe sat up, book forgotten on the cot. “What possible life threatening injury do you have?”
“Nothin slips past you, Doc.” Jack sat on the cot opposite of him. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather there not be any injury report bout this.”
“Look if you need some sort of cream or something—”
“Nah, it’s just…” A sigh. Rather than tell what happened, Jack stripped off his shirt, revealing the deepening color of skin.
Roe looked at him for a moment, brow raised in disbelief. “Dalton, did you get shot?”
“I mean, you’ve seen more than enough to know.”
“In the heart?”
“You sure yer a doctor?”
Roe ran a hand through his hair and let out a short snort. “Guess that answers the question of why Macgyver was in earlier.”
It was Jack’s turn to be surprised at that. “Mac came in? He alright?”
“He was fine, physically; can see why he was worried as hell though. Came in asking all sorts of questions about possible side effects that could happen when getting shot with a vest on.”
“What’d you tell him?”
“Circumstances play into it a lot; weapon, ammunition, area of impact, distance. Care to fill me in on all that.”
He blew out a breath, gesturing to his chest. “Impact area, maybe bout six meters—” He hesitated for a moment. “Standard army regulation nine mil pistol.”
Roes eyes shot up, forming into a slight glare. “So, let me see if I have this right. Just from what I heard through the grapevine, you were got by one guy that managed to get the jump on you, and from what you just told me, he managed to relieve you of your sidearm and get far enough away to shoot you, with near perfect accuracy, and you got your side arm back and killed him?”
Jack stayed silent. He didn’t know what information was being spread around, choosing to ignore it just like he’d done before with all others. What Doc Roe told him wasn’t completely believable, but it was better than what really happened.
“Makes sense if you don’t really think about it, but you’re a sniper and ex delta. I doubt you’d let someone get close enough to you to take your side arm. And not wanting an incident report means something happened, like you didn’t say in your report that you were injured.”
Jack sighed. “It wasn’t— conventional. Look can we just leave it at I got shot but I’m okay? Got some things to work through before, I dunno, talkin bout it, alright?”
Roe looked at him as if to argue, but shook his head. “If that’s what you want. Let me give you a look over, and then I need you to do something for me.”
“What do ya need?”
“No matter what the prognosis is, go speak to Macgyver. Whatever happened to cause this, he was real shook up; twitchy and slight hyperventilation. Ran before I was able to offer assistance.”
***
Roe ended up giving Jack a clean bill of health, besides the still darkening bruises and soreness he was definitely feeling, telling him to return if he started having any sharp pains in his chest.
Jack himself had made a split decision to head back to bunks in hope of Mac finally turning in as the day quickly turned to night. He had a feeling neither of them would get any sleep that night.
Upon entering the bunks though, Mac’s was still empty, with no sign he even stepped foot in there the whole day. He huffed and ran a hand down his face.
“You still looking for Hollywood?” Patrick asked.
“Yep. Thought he might’ve come back by now. Dunno where he’s gone to.”
“You check the outer rim?” Davis chimes in. “Caught a glimpse of him sprinting bout ten minutes ago. Crux said he saw him start like half hour ago. Just figured he’s got a lot of extra energy to burn off before finally settling in for the night.”
That was almost the whole time they’d been back that Mac had been running.
Another sigh. “Somethin like that. Thanks.” He headed back out towards the outer edge of the base.
He should’ve known Mac would run. It was one of his coping mechanisms, probably the healthier one out of all of them, but running in a near sprint for half an hour was definitely not good. He could only imagine what was going through Mac’s head.
They needed to talk. He knew Mac wouldn’t want to. He knew it would only get worse if they didn’t.
He made his way to the outer rim and waited. On average, if Mac was doing a slow jog it would take anywhere from ten to twenty minutes to complete a lap around the whole base, not including being stopped by someone. Sprinting cut the time nearly in half. The thought of starting to run and maybe catch up to him had crossed his mind, but he didn’t know which way Mac was running, or if he was even still running at all. He could’ve just been avoiding Jack at all costs and hiding out somewhere until it was time for lights out.
Jack chose to wait. Luckily, he barely found a decent place to sit at before the stomping gate of Mac coming his direction.
It was going to be like it had all the other times; Jack would just simply start running with him, keeping pace and not actually pulling in front. He didn’t know if he would force Mac to stop and eat something that time. They’d gotten back just after dinner was served, meaning most of the good parts were gone and all the others cold and soggy anyways, but with how everything had gone, he knew most certainly that Mac didn’t have an appetite anyways.
Forcing Mac to do anything just seemed like an overall bad idea. So Jack would just run with him, until one or both of them collapse.
He didn’t announce himself or make any sort of indication. He just waited for Mac to pass and started after him.
Mac, in turn, didn’t make any indication of noticing him. That could’ve gone either way; Mac honestly didn’t notice him, which wouldn’t be the first time, or he was flat out ignoring him, which also wouldn’t be the first time. Jack wouldn’t be offended at either.
He also noted Mac wasn’t going at his full sprint. He would’ve been impressed if he was, since he’d been going at it for a little over half an hour. It meant that he was expelling all his energy and was close to stopping, but not that he had all his thoughts sorted out. Either option was fine. It wasn’t like the problem was going to go away on its own.
Jack counted ten laps before Mac really started to slow, almost tripping at several points. He also noted how soaked in sweat Mac’s shirt was; light brown had been turned dark, and Jack doubted he stopped at all to take a drink. His protective instinct was telling him to stop Mac, to make him take a break and down some water, but having that happen would only give Mac more energy to exert— but literally from his problems. He didn’t need that. No matter how uncomfortable the conversation was going to be, it had to happen.
It was another three before Mac crashed to a halt in all but the literal sense. He was tripping over his own feet and nearly face planted into a few storage crates, but caught himself before impact. He had hunched over, hands on his knees and breathing heavily. Jack had stopped just behind him, also hunched and catching his breath but not nearly as bad as Mac was. The slight breeze of the cold night air sent a chill up his spine.
“Eighty-two.”
Jack looked at Mac’s heaving back. It was the answer to the question Jack asked every time; how many laps? It wasn’t quite a call for concern— nearly everyone had been given laps as a sort of punishment, usually at it all day but never really going full speed, always a light slow paced jog to get away with doing nothing else all day. But that wasn’t a punishment, not given by anyone but Mac himself.
“Five— five point— four miles.”
“Glutton for punishment.” Jack straightened up, taking one last deep breath. “New record?”
“Haven’t— haven’t passed the sixties.” Rather than stand like Jack had, Mac opted to sit, head going on his knees to rest. “Not this— fast.”
Jack joined him in sitting. “How long were ya runnin before I found ya?”
“Dunno. Few minutes— after we debriefed.”
A little over an hour since then. The time matched up with what the other guys said.
They sat in silence for a while, well past when Mac’s breathing finally returned to normal. It was nice, peaceful— at least as peaceful it could be in a war zone. Jack had his eyes plastered to the sky, amazed at all the stars he could see. It reminded him of home, of opening the skylight in the barn roof and watching the sky for hours until he fell asleep. He didn’t want to ruin the calm that settled.
“I went and saw Doc.” He tried to make his tone casual, non alarming. “Said everythin’s all good and I’m just gonna be sore for a while until it heals. Nothin to it.”
Mac didn’t say anything. Jack saw the tension release from his shoulders just a bit.
“Gonna be honest with you, I don’t know how to go about this. Physically, we’re both fine. Mentally, for me, I don’t really know how I feel. It was scary, yeah, but it wasn’t the first time I’ve been shot at, or shot for that matter. Whole thing was rattling for sure, but— I dunno what else there is. I ain’t mad, or upset, or feelin any sort of negative feelin towards you. I guess I’m more so surprised at the whole thing. Yer reflexes and aim— with how slow ya are at disarmin IEDs, my subconscious musta made a decision that yer just slow at everythin else.” He turned his head back to the sky. “I need you to know there ain’t any hard feelins. Whole thing’s water under the bridge as far as I’m concerned.”
Mac lifted his head from his knees, also looking up to the sky. “I killed someone today.”
Denying it any further would only make matters worse. “Yeah, ya did.”
“And then I shot you.”
“That too.”
“I heard their footsteps and thought it was you already back and we— I, didn’t have anything else to worry about. I realized it wasn’t you just before they got to the doorway… and was able to shoot them before they shot me. When you got there, I don’t know what I was thinking. I just shot on reflex when another body appeared. I can’t— I thought that person was you, and the scene just keeps replaying in my head.”
Jack nodded. “It’s gonna haunt you for a while. First ones always do, ‘specially in a circumstance like that.”
“But, it’s not.” Mac crossed his arms over his knees and rested his head. “Logically I know that wasn’t the first person that died by my hand. I can only hope they’ll be the last.”
“Maybe that right, but it was the first time you took action, right? First time you actually saw it with yer own eyes?” Mac have a barely audible noise of agreeing. “With someone of yer standards, with how you view the world and try to do good, no matter what the situation is, if you knowingly hurt someone, it’s gonna haunt you. Take it from me; I know I look like a big tough guy that’ll kill without remorse, but there’s still nightmares, sometimes night after night without stoppin. Takin a life takes a real toll on you, and it never gets any easier.”
“I joined the army. I shouldn’t have been so naïve to believe I could get through everything without— without it happening.”
“You got a heart of gold, kid. You came out here to try and do some good in a whole heap of bad. I don’t think that naïve; takes guts and balls to do what yer tryin to.” Jack sighed. “I don’t regret makin you take the gun. If I went off without leavin you any sorts protections, you might not be here right now, and that would weight a lot heavier on my conscience. I do regret not bein faster, or doin a second loop, he’ll I probably could’ve taken you along and just stash ourselves in the ‘vee. My decision put you in the state you are now, and I know no amount of apologizin will fix it. All I can do it stick by ya and help you try to deal with what yer feelin.”
A small nod. “To be honest, I don’t know if I would’ve asked you to do anything different. We didn’t know how many people there were and trying to make it back to the truck could’ve landed both of us in much different circumstances. I know every decision you make in the field is one that you hope will keep me safe, and I don’t thank you enough for it. We’re both— okay, so I think you made the right choice this time as well.”
They both sat in a comfortable silence for a while, listening to the sounds of the base settling for the night.
“Jack?”
“Yeah?”
“Why did you insist we not actually say what happened? There wouldn’t be any real repercussions, would there?”
“Not really, I don’t think. You might’ve been sent back to basic weapon training for a refresher, but there wouldn’t be any real punishment. Word would get around and there’d be whispers, and guys would come up to ya to hassle bout what happened, and you don’t need that, since you already feel real shitty bout it. Also thought about if and when they go back to get updated info about that town; if that body’s still there and someone wants to play detective, they’d see only three bullet holes and there were four rounds missin from the gun. I think Doc’s got an inklin bout what’s goin on given the circumstances, but he’s a good guy that won’t tell on us.”
A soft exhale from Mac as his head turned to face Jack. Even when it was an issue Mac created, Jack was still looking out for him and taking the blame. “Are you really okay? The impact of the bullet didn’t give you arrhythmia or crack your sternum or anything?”
“I promise. Doc said I was A’okay. Besides, that might’ve hurt like a bitch, but I’ve been kicked by a horse in much closer range that hurt a hell of a lot worse than that did.”
“Was it in the head? Would make a lot of sense if that was the case.”
“Ha ha, real funny smartass.”
“One of us has to be.”
Jack snorted and playfully nudged Mac.
“We’re gonna be okay, kid.”