Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Everything felt off.

Things had changed; shifted, and broke.

Mac had been in the hospital in Italy for just over three weeks before he was able to be discharged. Jack had been at his bedside every day, offering physical support for anything he needed.

Patty had gotten them a car from the hospital straight to the airport where a DXS jet had been waiting for them, and had been waiting to call when they finally boarded.

“I’m glad to see you’re doing well, Mac. I’ve had all your files sent over to Dr. Sharron, and she’d like to give you a very quick once over when you land. Ive also taken the liberty to inform your roommate that you’ve been released and are on your way back, and that we’d have someone at your house with you until he got back if he was out. Jack— you’re a whole different issue. The only people who should know you’re alive is myself, the driver that picked you up from the airport, and your pilot. This is not a situation I thought I’d find myself in, and I have to say I’m unprepared.”

They were all unprepared.

Mac and Jack hadn’t spoke to each other, no more than asking simple questions— you okay?— and getting simple answers— yeah, thanks.

The ride to the airport was— tense? Or awkward. They had been sitting nearly an arms length apart, with nothing but air between them, yet it felt like there was a wall, or like a layer of water that made everything just look wrong. They were there; same two people just like always, but they were changed in every way thinkable.

Actually getting on to the jet was worse. Jack was hovering, making sure Mac got up the steps alright and was comfortable in the seat he picked, and Jack didn’t know where to go from there. Normally he would’ve sat right across from him, or diagonal so they could chat or help each other decompress from the recent mission. Jack didn’t know where he belonged anymore.

“You can sit there.” Mac’s own voice still had a heavy sedated tone. The doctor had sent him on his way with the strongest painkillers he could for the trip home.

Jack stood for a second, contemplating sitting in a different area completely, but thought he might not get another invitation if he denied it. So he took the seat that was diagonal from him, eyes going to the floor and hands getting clasped in front of himself.

It was awkwardness. Definitely. At least for Jack. He didn’t think he knew anything about Mac anymore.

They were both quiet as the jet took off and got up into the air. Jack’s eyes had returned to what they were used to after missions; settled on Mac, looking over him to see if there was a hidden injury anywhere. There wasn’t, of course, not a hidden one. There was the matter of a hole going through Mac’s chest though, be it healing nicely or not.

Mac himself didn’t look like he was in any excruciating pain. He didn’t look much like anything at that moment except for exhausted, and it was completely acceptable. He was stuck in a hospital bed for nearly a month with barely any working— anything. The not-so-sudden suddenness of it definitely did a shock to his system. The short walks from the hospital door to the car, then the car to the jet and up the stairs must have felt like a complete workout to him. Jack didn’t blame him if he just wanted to sleep the whole flight until they got back.

Got back. Went home. Jack didn’t even know if he had a home anymore. Two years of nothing at his condo. He didn’t think he could even call it his condo anymore. It was probably vacated with the news about his death. All his possessions probably gone; sold, trashed, maybe put into storage somewhere. Where was he supposed to go when they got back to the states? A hotel? Beg his landlord for his place back? Stay with Mac?

“What’re you doing, Jack?”

Jack looked at him. Mac’s eyes were slivers but were clearly locked on him.

“Whaddya mean?”

“You died.”

Jack looked away. He couldn’t give Mac an answer. He didn’t know what he was doing himself. He came back because Mac was hurt, yes, but other than that he didn’t know what to do. And Mac definitely wasn’t coherent enough to actually tell him everything that happened.

“Not exactly… Mac—”

“What happened to your eye?”

He sighed. They had so much to talk about.

“Got got. Listen, I swear to you that I’ll tell you everythin’ that happened, but maybe when yer a little more— here.”

He waited for an answer, only to look and see Mac’s eyes had shut and his breathing gotten deep. He wasn’t even sure Mac heard that explanation.

The quiet of the jet and lull of the engines let Jack’s mind wander. Mac had said he could sit near him. That had to count for something. Even in his drug induced state, he wanted Jack near him. No, that wasn’t right. Mac didn’t ask for Jack to sit near him, only saying he could. There was no want or need in his tone to say otherwise. He needed to stop assuming things. That’s what got him into that situation in the first place.

He started actually thinking about his home situation. He couldn’t very well call his landlord and explain everything to her and ask if his condo was still available, being dead was usually a permanent thing. Maybe, if he was lucky, his condo was still there somehow, and he just owed two years worth of everything.

Then there was Bozer. He seemed like the easiest thing to handle out of everything. Bozer thought Jack had been called back to the army and died in service. It would be easy to say a lot of confidential things happened and he needed to disappear for a while. He would understand, hopefully. He felt horrible wishing Mac would be the same way.

He had fallen asleep at some point. The jolt of the jet touching down on the runway snapped him awake. Mac was still out, looking generally uncomfortable with how he sat. The sedatives the doctor gave him were a godsend. Mac always fought sedatives. The fact he was asleep said how injured he actually was.

After the jet had come to a complete stop, the cockpit had opened and the pilot had joined them in the cabin.

“It’s real good to see you again, Agent Dalton.”

Bruce had been the pilot he and Mac had nearly every time they went out of the country. He was an older guy; a good decade older than Jack himself. On their downtime at DXS, they sometimes ate together if their schedules matched up, and a handful of times when flying when the jet was on autopilot, he would join them in the cabin and talk for a bit. He had a wife and kids, and apparently several grandkids that kept him just as busy as work did.

“Nice to see you again too, Bruce.”

Bruce gestured at Mac. “You need any help?”

“No, I got him.”

“Two years and you haven’t changed a bit.”

He did though. Jack changed more than he could admit and more than he could accept.

The jet had opened, and Jack couldn’t delay the inevitable any longer. He put a hand on Mac’s shoulder and gently shook him.

“Hey bud, we touched down. Time to get up so doc can take a quick look at ya.”

It took a second for Mac to even attempt to be conscious. He didn’t say anything, only reached up at Jack to help him up, just like he’d done so many times before. Force of habit maybe, or Jack really was over thinking everything and Mac didn’t have any feelings on the whole matter. Or, probably the most likely answer, Mac was too drugged out of his head to lean one way or the other at the moment.

Either way, Jack grabbed Mac’s hand and gently helped him out of the seat, guiding him through the jet and to the stairs. He nodded once at Bruce as he took the space behind Mac, hand going to his shoulder to preemptively stop him from taking a nosedive down the steps. One of the maintenance carts was waiting for them. Jack hopped in first and helped guide Mac in, an arm going around his shoulder to prevent him from falling out sideways.

He could feel the stares from people they passed, both outside in the cart and inside as they were escorted to medical. Jack knew it was him they were staring at, and wished it was just for how his face looked. Knowing that it was mainly the shock of him actually being alive— he didn’t know how to feel. It was judgmental, and Jack was the kind of person that needed to deal with issues head on. People, nearly everyone they passed, were talking behind his back; whispering, staring, commenting. It needed to be addressed before even thinking of joining DXS again, if he was even allowed.

The inside hadn’t changed; same people, same walls, same smell, and same doctor waiting for their entry.

Dr. Shannon reminded Jack a lot of their unit medic in the army; said things as they were, no shit attitude, would yell at superiors on their behalf if needed. Jack hadn’t met Oversight, but given the reputation of DXS and how good of an agency they were, he figured the boss had to be a tough sonofabitch. The thought of Dr. Shannon getting all up in their face about the health of the agents was always something that would tickle him.

“Agent Dalton, it’s good to see you again.”

“You too, Doc.”

“How are you feeling, Agent Macgyver?” She was always straight and to the point, rarely giving pleasantries when working. Mac had merely given her a shaky thumbs up, eyes still barely opened. “I got all his files sent over. Can you give me a rundown of everything up until this point?” She gestured for them to follow as she took them into an unoccupied room.

“Doc in Italy said he’s healin’ up fine; had him on an antibiotic for the duration he was there in case of infection. He’s pumped full of painkillers and a sedative right now, if ya couldn’t tell.” A soft snort. If Mac was lucid then he would’ve been telling Dr. Shannon all that himself. Instead he was sitting on one of the tables with Jack supporting him while Dr. Shannon got all her equipment ready. “Shoulda taken another dose a few hours ago, but he’s been sleepin’ this whole time, and I figured I’d let him sleep. Uh, I got his meds in my go bag, but the doc gave me the prescriptions to hand over.” Jack fished in his back pocket and pulled out a few folded papers. “He also said somethin’ ‘bout gettin’ him on steroids to help get his strength back and build back some muscle he lost while bed bound.”

“We’ll see.” She took the papers and glanced over them. She then took out a penlight and looked in Mac’s eyes, causing said man to shrink away. At least his basic reflex worked still. She then took a stethoscope and listened to his heart and lungs. “How long did he have assisted breathing?”

“Uh, a little over two weeks, maybe sixteen or seventeen days. Why? You hear somethin’?”

“Right lung is working harder to compensate for the left. The reports I received didn’t say a lung was punctured, but I wouldn’t be surprised if the left one collapsed because of the trauma. It could’ve been the plane ride back in complete honesty, but it’s something I’d like to keep an eye on.” She took Mac’s wrist and checked his pulse, eyes on her watch and counting. “What happened with you?  Your eye.”

Jack shrugged. “Got too close to an explosion.”

“Can you see out of it?”

“Not really; super blurry shapes and colors, but if you covered my good one then I’m as good as blind.”

She recorded Mac’s pulse then took the same penlight to Jack’s eye. “And what did your doctor say about it?”

“Nothin’ much. They did their best to save it when it first happened, but even after everythin’ I still couldn’t see. Some days it gets less blurry and I can make out some shapes, but mostly it’s like a super bad cataract that ain’t ever gonna be fixed. Suppose it’s what I get for what I did.”

A pressure on his arm made him turn. Mac had his fist against it. It was a small thing, perhaps a gesture of comfort. That was all Jack could hope for.

Dr. Shannon wrote a few things on her notepad before retreating slightly. “I’m going to write a new prescription for Macgyver’s painkillers. There’s nothing wrong with what he has now, and it most likely was on purpose, but with how sedated he is, its probably going to be difficult to get him to eat or drink anything. The new ones are safe to mix with the others, but not everything at once. I’ll have a detailed schedule sent to you when the prescription is filled and the pharmacist will explain everything. Then for you, if you want, I can get you specialty eye drops. They’re more efficient than other pharmaceutical ones, but there’s no guarantee they’ll help at all.”

“Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks Doc.”

***

“That’s right, easy does it. Nice, comfy bed.”

Mac barely became coherent on the drive to his house.

“What’s your prognosis, Margaret?” Patty had joined them in med just as everything was finishing up.

“It’s going to take time, but he should heal back to perfect health with minimal issues. A few months healing and PT should be no issue.” Dr. Shannon answered. “Right now he just needs rest and fluids to get the old drugs out of his system so we can get him on the new ones.”

“Let’s not delay that any further.” She turned to Jack. “He’s in your care for the unforeseeable future. Get him home and in to bed.”

“Patty—”

“You’re still his emergency contact, Jack. Officially, he never changed it. I had to take matters into my own hands and switch it to myself.”

Jack blinked at her then looked to Mac, who was leaning on his arm, barely holding on to consciousness.

“I know you have a lot to deal with. Get him home and stay with him. I’ll be in touch with you later.”

“Okay, all tucked in. Nice and snug. I’m gonna get you some water then let you sleep. Gonna be right in the livin’ room if you need anythin’.”

Mac was already asleep the instant he was placed on the bed.

Jack left the door open a crack as he went out and sat on the couch. Everything looked the same, maybe a few new projects scattered around, and that bike that was certainly never going to get finished. The remote was in the same place it was always in, and the program that popped on was about the solar system. It was all the same.

He felt like a stranger sitting there. He’d never felt like that before, not in Mac’s house, not in the place he called home when they were first discharged. It was such a foreign concept. Jack knew that house, knew where Bozer and Mac hid things from each other. He knew were extra towels, and sheets were. He knew how to make the one drawer in the kitchen stop squeaking when it was opened, and he knew about the scorch mark on the floor beneath the couch that happened when Bozer was filming a scene and it got a bit out of hand. Jack knew about that house, but it felt like he shouldn’t.

He sat on the couch for a few hours, occasionally getting up and checking on Mac for any sort of change, but really only seeing him shift positions. And then, the sound of keys in a lock and a door opening and closing. Footsteps trudged heavy from the door and through the hall, slowing just a bit before coming to a complete stop right at the opening to the living room.

The silence that stretched out seemed to even mute the TV.

Jack knew Bozer was there, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. He couldn’t look at him though. He didn’t want to see the hurt and betrayal etched on his face.

“Jack?”

It came as a whisper of disbelief and strange wonder, something like Mac’s was when Jack signed up again and surprised him in the humvee.

Two steps closer, and Jack knew he couldn’t ignore it.

“Hey, Boze.” He pushed himself up from the couch and turned to face him.

It seemed like they stood there for ages just staring at each other, but before Jack knew it, Bozer had closed the distance between them and wrapped Jack in the biggest hug he could.

“Oh thank god. I didn’t— when I heard, god. I’m so glad you’re okay.” Bozer’s voice got more watery as he spoke, relief flooding every word.

Jack was surprised and overwhelmed by Bozer’s words and actions. He himself felt the rush and sting of tears in his eyes as he wrapped his arms around him to reciprocate the hug.

“Sorry, alotta things happened.” He didn’t let go until Bozer did. “Mac’s, uh, he’s set up in his room; out cold from his meds. Hasn’t really been coherent at all since comin’ back. I’ve been checkin’ on him every few hours.”

“No, no, yeah, uh,” he wiped his nose, “I’ll go see him. Then, uh, if you want, we can sit and watch this together.”

“Yeah, sounds great.”

***

It was an hour before Bozer joined Jack back in the living room. He sat with Mac for most of the time before heading to the bathroom for a quick shower.

“I didn’t hear it from him.” Bozer said as he sat on the couch. “About you, I mean. We got a call on the house phone, and the person was talking about funeral arrangements and times, and when I asked who it was for… Mac had just been so out of it for days. At first I thought he was sick, but I knew deep down that he was hurting about you being called back, and it was a year since it first happened I think. He really wasn’t doing good, and I lost him after the funeral, and thought I actually lost him.”

Jack knew. He remembered the voicemail Bozer left, saying how bad Mac had gotten.

“I left him notes.” Jack said. “We both knew there was a possibility I wouldn’t be comin’ back, and I knew how bad that would mess Mac up if it happened. I did actually get the voicemail you left, and it was so painful not bein’ able to talk to you about what was happenin’. I wanted to, so bad, but— I couldn’t. But… I put notes ‘round my condo where I knew Mac would look if— if he was gonna try anythin’, and he was gonna. Got voicemails from him too sayin’ how he tried but found what I left him.”

Jack didn’t realize how shaky his voice had gotten, or that tears had been streaming down his face. It was such a dark time for all of them.

“What happened, Jack? Why… how—? I mean I know you can’t tell me a lot of stuff but, can you at least tell me about—” he gestured at his own face.

Jack shook his head slightly. “Nothin’ really to tell ‘bout that. I just— got got. Almost fully blind in it but I’ve got some drops I’m gonna try to see if they do anythin’. And as for what happened, yer right that I can’t tell ya, not all of it at least. After this, after wakin’ up in a hospital, I was told I had to go into a sort of witness protection for a while. Whole last year, I was just livin’ somewhere where no one knew who I was. When I learned Mac got shot, I didn’t care ‘bout nothin’ else; said hell to everythin’ and did what I shoulda done right when I woke up.”

Bozer nodded. “You’re here now, and still relatively in one piece. That’s what matters right now. I’m sure Mac would say the same thing.”

“I’m not too sure. I left him, after I swore I’d stay with him and watch his back. I don’t even know if he wants me near him right now. He’s been too incoherent to put it one way or another.”

“I promise, he wants to see you.”

Jack could only hope. He desperately wanted to believe Bozer’s words.

“Besides, it would be a little awkward if he didn’t. I mean, given everything, you probably don’t have a place to stay, right?” Bozer more said than asked. “If I’m being completely honest, I don’t know what happened with all your stuff and your place. I was working and Mac— he was gone a lot. Never told me where he was or what he was doing, but it was for hours at a time. And I never pushed him on it because I just assumed he was trying to cope in his own way. But, yeah. Just like when you first got here after being discharged; guest room is all yours. I mean it’s pretty much your room anyways. Not like we really ever have company over.”

“Bozer…”

“I know you think it’s awkward, or that we forgot about you, but we didn’t. I didn’t… and I know Mac could never. And right now he’s hurt. I’m positive you’re the one person he would want to see. I don’t know how he’ll react actually seeing you when he’s coherent, but I think it would be worse if he came out of it and just thought he was hallucinating. And I wouldn’t be able to keep a secret from him. He’s my best friend. We’ve known each other for years and I’m pretty sure he can like read my mind. So just— stay for a while, until you get back on your feet, and, and the very least, until Mac wakes up.”

He couldn’t argue. He didn’t want to argue. He didn’t want to leave.

“Alright. I’ll… I’ll stay.”

***

Getting shot hurt. At least he thought it did. Mac honestly hadn’t remembered all that much from it. It felt like he had gotten punched, had all the air pushed from his chest before dropping into freezing water. The immediate things that happened after that he had no recollection of.

There were bits and pieces of what he was assuming was a hospital. Someone must have found him in the water, or he drifted to the edge. He saw flashes of people, remembered beeps and alarms from machines, yelling and whispering voices. He was convinced he had died, at least for a while, because he swore he had seen Jack, and actually spoke with him.

Jack— most likely a hallucination, because he was dead. Or maybe he wasn’t a hallucination in those instances because Mac himself was also dead. So technically everything Jack had said was true.

When Mac had been discharged and given the okay to travel back to the states, he kept seeing Jack, kept hearing and speaking to him. That wasn’t fair. His head wasn’t in the right space; being all muddled from however many medications he was on. He was hallucinating Jack escorting him back on the DXS jet, and probably freaking out whoever he was actually with.

“What are you doing, Jack?”

“Whaddya mean?”

“You died.”

His subconscious mind was working against him, against his conscious one in trying to make him believe Jack was sitting with him.

That wasn’t fair.

What’s worse is that his mind didn’t even make him look like Jack. He was injured. He was still mostly Jack but… his face was different. Not in a bad way, but, older— scarred. Mac’s mind couldn’t stop thinking that Jack was killed by an IED, one he definitely could’ve stopped. He couldn’t give Jack the decency of a normal memory, of his normal face.

He could hear Jack speaking to him on the car ride, at DXS medical, the second car ride to the house, and actually settling him in bed. He wanted them to stay, whoever they were, so he could live in those minutes thinking Jack was actually there. Maybe he could apologize for thinking everything he did, for denying all of it, for trying… to join him. Even if it wasn’t Jack, it was the thought that counted.

Bozer’s voice had broken through at one point, and Mac knew it was actually him. He was saying how relieved he was that Mac was finally back home and, more or less, okay and on the mend. He talked about what he did while he was gone, and how horrible it was that the whole thing happened. Then about how his boss was playing devil’s advocate and that he couldn’t get any more days off to actually be home to care for him.

But that it would be alright, because someone much more suited for the job would be there.

Mac heard his door open and shut occasionally, whoever was probably checking to make sure he was still breathing, then there was Bozer saying he had to go to work but Mac was left in good hands. He wasn’t able to say anything to Bozer before he left for work, and it was a little disappointing. He had honestly missed him when he went to Italy and was looking forward to one of his meals that was always made. He could wait another day, or few. He didn’t know what kind of diet he had been put on for everything, but he had gotten hungry.

The amount of time he spent in bed was unknown, but he knew from past injuries, not quite as similar, that he needed to move around to start getting his strength back up. It took a much longer time than he would admit, to actually get himself out of bed, or at least just to sit up. When he finally mustered the strength to stand, it was on extremely wobbly legs. He shuffled slowly to his door, stopping to catch his breath before pulling it open and making his way into the living room.

He saw the TV on, the sound nearly inaudible as he tried to recognize whatever was playing. As his eyesight focused, he saw someone sitting on the couch.

He thought it was someone he recognized somewhere, maybe from work that he couldn’t place in his incoherent state. That must have been who they called to watch him. It would be a little awkward when confronting them, saying thank you for what they were doing but sorry because he didn’t know who they were. In his defense, he was highly medicated and could only just stand without falling. 

He really thought he knew them though, like he’d seen the back of that head so much more than any other. And when they started to turn—

“Whoa there, sleepy head. Who let you up?”

It was Jack. That wasn’t fair. He must have been more high than he thought with blatantly hallucinating, again, that Jack was in front of him. 

“You trackin’ me?”

They even spoke like Jack. Same accent, same speech pattern. Maybe it was because that was the first time he was majorly injured and Jack wasn’t there to help him through everything. 

“Let’s get you back down, okay?”

He didn’t want that. Didn’t want to go lay in his bed. He wanted his head to be clear, to see and speak with whoever was there; to stop seeing Jack because it hurt too much. He pressed forward, shaky legs daring to drop him at every step as he went towards the couch. 

“You wanna be out here?”

He didn’t answer, merely still hobbling until whoever that was was at his side and hovering, ready to catch in case of a sudden fall. Luckily Mac’s legs held until he had been sat, and the fake Jack had taken a seat next to him after getting water.

“You doin’ alright?”

It took a second for him to focus enough to actually answer. “Yeah… tired. Head’s real muddled.”

“Yer on some heavy stuff. Would be worried if yer head wasn’t muddled.”

Mac turned his head to look, to try to see if he could tell who was actually right there with him. 

All he saw was Jack. 

“Sorry… who— are you?”

Something flashed across their face. “You don’t recognize me?”

“Drugs— making me hallucinate. You look like… Jack.”

They sat in silence for what seemed like several hours after that, and with how skewed Mac’s version of reality was at the moment, it very well could have been. 

“Do… do you remember the past few hours?” Fake Jack asked.

“Don’t know. Bits and pieces scattered around. Kinda see faces but not sure.”

“Can you say who?”

Mac leaned his head back against the couch and closed his eyes. “Pilot… DXS pilot, don’t remember his name. Think Dr. Shannon at some point, talk to me and— Thornton. Both were talking to… to— me, and Jack. Home… Bozer was here. Now just— you.”

“Okay, and you don’t know who I am?”

“No, sorry.”

“Who do I look like then?”

Mac turned his head and cracked his eyes open a bit. “Jack.”

Mac saw him crack a smile, and his eyes did the very same thing Jack’s did. 

“Dontcha think that if yer able to remember all of them correctly, that maybe, yer also rememberin’ me correctly?”

His eyes opened more and he tried his best to focus on the face. 

“Bit scratched up, but same everythin’ else?”

“No, Jack died last year. It’s impossible.”

“You remember who was with you when you woke up in the hospital?”

Well, Jack, but—

“Or who helped ya into the car when ya got discharged?”

Jack did—

“And gettin’ on and off the DXS jet, gettin’ ya to med, then back home?”

It wasn’t possible.

“Who’s sittin’ next to you right now?”

Something happened in Mac’s head. A stick that had been lodged, stuck to keep the gears from turning finally snapped, and they started to slowly move.

He hadn’t been hallucinating. From his time being barely lucid in the hospital, to that very moment of sitting on the couch…

It was Jack. It had always been Jack.

Mac’s hand had gone over Jack’s chest, hovering over his heart, terrified that he might’ve actually been sleeping and the whole thing was a dream, and that his hand would just faze through him and hit the back of the couch. It wouldn’t have been the first time it happened, waking up disappointed to the harsh reality he lived in. He didn’t want to wake up alone again.

But he had to take a chance. He couldn’t live in that world forever.

His hand slowly dropped, waiting for the soft impact of the couch. Instead it stopped short, resting on Jack’s chest, and feeling the soft thumps of his heartbeat beneath it.

Mac almost recoiled, a surprise he was sure he wasn’t going to experience. Instead he sat up straighter, eyes wide open and focused. His other arm slowly went forward as well, needing to validate what the other was feeling. Jack held up his arm, wrist out and ready for Mac to feel the pulse through it.

Everything stopped in that moment. Everything clicked. Everything and nothing made sense all at once.

“Jack…?”

There was that soft smile; the gentle tone and fondness in Jack’s eyes that Mac hadn’t seen for two years.

“Hey kiddo.”

No one called him that. There was no one to call him that. That was one of Jack’s nicknames for Mac, once used to insult— turned into someone that held an immense amount of affection.

Mac could do nothing but stare. Feel the beat of Jack’s heart under his hands. There was so much that needed to be said, asked. So many answers he needed, so many answers he wanted to give. His emotions were swirling around, flashing from one to another in mere seconds without choosing one to stop on. He didn’t know what his face looked like.

“I know we got a lot to talk about, and I swear on my mama’s life and my daddy’s grave that we’ll talk, but yer healin’. I don’t wanna do or say anythin’ that might get you in a tizzy. We don’t need you suddenly crashin’ and bein’ admitted to the hospital again. I know it’s a lot to ask, but please, rest up a bit more so you can listen to everythin’ without fightin’ off sleep, like yer doin’ now.”

It was like nothing changed. Jack still knew Mac; knew the right words, proper tone, facial expressions— it was like Jack had gotten back from an extended vacation, and that made Mac angry.

***

“What happened?”

Jack knew it wasn’t going to be long before the questions started. He was surprised it took Mac a little over an hour before he asked. And admittedly, he didn’t want to talk about anything, but knew nothing would get better if they didn’t at least start.

“I’m gonna need some specifics, bud. A lot of things happened.”

“When— you called, and said you were coming back, did you mean it?”

There was something underlying in his tone, and Jack honestly couldn’t tell if it had anything to do with the medication or not.

“Of course I did. I wouldn’t have called if not.”

“What happened with that then?”

Jack took a deep breath. “We had a few things to follow up on, one of them being a last minute raid of any remainin’ people; got a tip from someone sayin’ they had info. Goin’ there, I still don’t know exactly if it was a setup or just bad info, but we were expected. We got caught and left in a buildin’ that was rigged. Uh, I don’t remember too much ‘bout what actually happened in the whole of it, but I woke up in a hospital. No major injuries, ‘cept this.” He gestured to his eye. “Someone from Interpol said my team and I had targets on our backs and we needed to go into hidin’, and… sayin’ we were dead was the easiest way to get whoever to stop lookin’.”

“It… you didn’t choose it?”

“No. God no. If I could’ve… bein’ told I couldn’t see or speak to you again— it was more painful than any injury I’ve ever had. Truth be told. I ain’t supposed to be here right now. I’m still supposed to be in hidin’, but learnin’ you got shot, I finally realized leavin’ in the first place was the biggest mistake I ever made in my life, and if I could go back, I would’ve stayed right here with you.”

He would’ve gotten the damn hug.

Mac shifted and took a slow breath. “Who told you that I got shot?”

“Patty did.” Jack held his hand up. “Don’t be mad at her. She didn’t know until all this happened. There was — information that connected both of us, and I had the jet waitin’ for me. That’s when I got the call that you got shot.”

“Did anyone else know you were alive?”

He nodded. “When I was first told I couldn’t go back, I called my buddy Steve. He was the only person I told, and I asked him to keep an eye on you.”

Mac’s head lulled to to the back of the couch, his eyes shutting. Jack assumed that was all they were going to get through at that moment.

“Why don’t we go getcha back—”

“I ignored your call.”

Jack looked at him; eyes slitted and watery.

“When you called to say you were coming home, I watched it ring until it stopped. I was… mad at you for leaving, and I didn’t know what to expect when you called but… I didn’t think— someone came to the door and they didn’t have to tell me.”

“I don’t know how to rectify that. I was told you were informed after I woke up in the hospital. It had already been days at that point. And when I made a call to Steve— I wanted to call you, but I knew you’d use that brain of yers to track me down, and I couldn’t put you in danger.”

Mac sniffled and wiped his eyes. “That… I… just stopped caring. About myself, about people around me. I wasn’t eating or bathing, I stopped going to work, I hardly moved from my bed, and after the funeral— I went to your place.”

Jack knew what was coming next. His eyes were watering.

“I didn’t know where I was going, but my subconscious knew it was a safe place. I… didn’t reach out to anyone, didn’t know how bad I was getting. I had gone to your place— to just stop everything. I felt so lost and alone, and I just missed you so much. I didn’t say goodbye to anyone, and I was content with that. Someone would’ve found me eventually. I just didn’t care anymore.”

Tears were streaming down both their faces.

The amount of guilt Jack felt was immeasurable. He was the one that pushed Mac to that point.

“Then I found the note,” Mac sniffed and wiped his eyes, “In the medicine cabinet. I read it over and over while sitting on the floor of your bathroom. I couldn’t do it. You were looking out for me even when you were gone, and I couldn’t disappoint you. I… it’s in my nightstand. I still read it when things get hard.”

Jack couldn’t find his voice. He wanted to yell, to scream—

He knew there was nothing he could say to make anything better. He drove Mac to that. Any words out of his mouth would just make the situation worse. So they both just sat there, more or less absentmindedly leaning on each other.

Jack stopped trying to wipe his tears away. New ones would just take their place immediately after. His head wasn’t clear; probably wouldn’t be for a long time. He felt like everything that happened in the past year was finally, truly, coming to realization.

Mac had trauma… but Jack did as well.

A nonsensical panic has started to well in his chest. Neither of them could handle something like that at the moment. Jack tried to slow his breathing, remembering exercises he was taught to quell the panic before it really had time to develop. But instead of focusing on his own breathing, he hooked on to Mac’s.

Slow, deep breaths. Calm, exact. Jack thought Mac might’ve been doing it purposefully, but when he actually looked, Mac’s eyes were shut. Leaning back against the couch with his head barely resting on Jack’s shoulder. It helped, immensely, both in stopping the panic threatening to make an appearance, and know that Mac still felt comfortable enough to sleep while in Jack’s presence. Of course, Mac could’ve had no choice and merely been too tired or weak to go back to his room but…

Jack counted it as a very small victory.

***

He wanted to yell, or scream, or do something to truly portray how he felt. The underlying anger over the whole thing was trying to emerge even though he thought he made peace with it a long time ago.

He couldn’t do that to him, not after he saw how defeated Jack looked. How miserable and guilty and just overall tired.

Mac wanted to stop feeling those emotions.

Telling Jack about the last few months helped, but also made it seem much worse. Expressing his pain and suffering just added more onto Jack. The problems weren’t being solved at all.

He didn’t know when he fell asleep, but when he woke up again the house was dark, the TV was off, and he was leaning on Jack with a blanket covering the both of them. Falling asleep on the couch was nothing new, but most of the times it was at Jack’s place after a particularly tough mission, and they were on different ends of the couch with their legs sprawled over each other. They were fond memories that Mac held dear.

He couldn’t see what time it was and didn’t have his phone on him to check. It had definitely been hours later though, if his aching body was anything to go off of, and the pain in his stomach of not eating anything. He wanted something to eat, more so wanting his pain killers to he could move his upper body freely and not have to wait in between each breath for the pain to subside. He also didn’t want to wake Jack. He didn’t know how long it was since he got actual sleep, but if it was anything like the other times, that was probably the night with actual hours one after another.

He tried his damnedest to carefully get the blanket off and slowly stand from the couch, but the pain was making all his moves janky to the point that he felt like he had vertigo. There was barely a second of standing before he was back on the couch, breathing through the fire emanating from his chest. The tears that had stopped earlier had started up just as quick.

“Whoa whoa whoa, hey.” Jack had woken up. Of course he had. Mac had gotten shot on the opposite side of the planet and Jack was there when he woke up. “Yer alright. Just keep breathin’. I’ll be right back.”

He had gone from the couch towards the bedrooms, coming back a minute later with pill bottles in hand.

“Missed yer dosage since you were sleepin’, and doc said since you were hopped up on so many anyways that we might have to adjust times.” He opened each bottle and took out one tablet and handed them to Mac before opening a water bottle on the table. “One for pain, one for infection just in case. If the pain don’t subside in an hour then there’s another you can take that’s okay to mix with these. Not supposed to take these on an empty stomach though… you up for tryin’ to eat somethin’?”

Mac nodded, tossing back the tablets and water. It was like nothing had changed. That situation had been done before in less serious circumstances; being nearly identical to when he got really sick. More or less startling himself awake at night only for Jack to wake seconds later and take care of everything. The very first time, Mac had twisted his ankle— no major injury, only in need of a brace for a week or two. He remembered getting out of bed and smacking his hand on the nightstand, causing something to drop on the floor. At the rate his door swung open and Jack went barreling in, Mac would’ve thought he was being robbed. At the same time, seeing Jack go from alert and wide awake, to not bothering going back to his room and passing out on Mac’s bed had to be some kind of record.

“Gimme a sec. Bozer made soup since he didn’t know what you’d be in the mood for; said you could ask for anythin’ and he’d make it tonight… I mean tomorrow night— I think.”

It was so— normal.

He sat there trying not to move while listening to Jack in the kitchen. It happens so many times before, and that got him thinking when it was going to stop. He told Jack about a lot of stuff, but there was stuff he didn’t know how to being up. He wanted everything out on the table for both of them. He wanted Jack to know everything he’d done and felt, and wanted the same from him. They were always open with each other before, and in all truth, Mac didn’t really see a difference between then and now.

“Incomin’. Jack’s voice broke the silence as he rounded the couch with two bowls. “Chicken and veggie to help the sick and injured. His words, not mine. Salt and pepper for your likin’… do ya need or want any help?”

One of the bowls had gone to the table while the other stayed in Jack’s hands, ready to help Mac eat if asked.

“I’m okay.”

Jack’s cheeks twitched up slightly before handing Mac the bowl. When he took the first bite, it made him realize that was his first meal in days.

They sat in silence as they ate, nothing but the clinking of the spoons against the bowls and occasional slurp. Mac didn’t know why but he felt awkward, or tense, or nervous, just waiting for something to happen.

He didn’t like it.

“How long are you staying?”

That— didn’t come out right.

Jack’s spoon stopped midway to his mouth before it was carefully put down. The look on his face was like a mixture of guilt, sorrow, and understanding.

“I… was gonna stay at least until yer all better. I haven’t put any thought into lookin’ for a new place, but if you want me gone then I’ll start lookin’ in the mornin’.”

It was wrong. All wrong.

“No, I meant…” He took a deep breath. “Do you have plans on leaving at all?”

He shook his head. “No, unless you want me to.”

It was all so familiar.

“I know Bozer told you to stay as long as you want, and I’m with him on that. You’re— not a guest in this house. You’ve never been. You’re… family.”

***

Jack nearly dropped his bowl at those words. Mac wasn’t kicking him out. It sounded like Mac actually wanted him there. Mac’s house was his house. He was family.

“I, uh, dunno what to say. Thank you.”

“And, even if you wanted to, I don’t think you should look for a new place.”

That was a bit of a loop. “Whaddya mean?”

“You still own it.”

That didn’t make sense. He was told when he assumed his new identity that all traces of his old life would disappear. He didn’t know how it was done but he was assured everything was taken care of,  which included his housing and financial.

“After you were declared— I went to your apartment and took over payments. I— couldn’t accept the fact that you were gone, and figured that if your place was still there, then you were still there.” A smile passed his lips. “And I really didn’t want to have to move everything.”

“What…?”

“I was in denial. I went there a few times a week to just— be. But… yeah. Everything’s how you left it, except for all the food, and I didn’t get plants or a fish. And, the GTO is in the garage right now.”

Jack couldn’t process what Mac was saying. All his stuff was right there he left it? And Mac had been paying his bill for the past two years?

“So you don’t need to look for a new place. I kept the old one.”

Jack looked at Mac, spoon going around in the soup in his lap. He wasn’t looking at Jack.

“Uh, I’m not saying you have to leave. I’d… really like it if you stay for a while, but you don’t have to…”

He wanted that hug. He needed it.

“Mac.” He fully turned. “You have done so much for me. Sayin’ thank you doesn’t even begin to cover it… “

“You don’t need to say anything.”

“Yes I do. I left you. I swore that I’d stay by yer side and watch yer back, but at first call, I up and left, and addin’ on, the amount of trauma I inflicted on you is— inexcusable. I mean, you— you almost killed yerself… and yet you went above everythin’ and did all that, for me? I can’t… yer the best thing that ever happened to me, and I’m so fuckin’ sorry for what I out you through.” He wiped his eyes. “After all I’ve done, all the hurt I put you through, I can only hope you’ll someday forgive me for everythin’.”

Mac put his bowl on the table and adjusted himself into a more comfortable position.

“I was mad at you for a while after you left. I didn’t understand why I was like that; you left for the safety of the nation. That was more important than how I felt, and I tried telling myself that every day. It worked sometimes  but I was overall just— a pain to deal with. I tried being paired with other people at work but we never clicked and I ended up more with consulting and simplified field missions. It got easier to accept overtime and I fell into a routine that worked for me to try and get back to normal. And when you called to say you were coming back… I just got— angry again, and I still can’t justify why. When everything else happened, the guilt of ignoring you last call overwhelmed me and… yeah.

“I’m not mad at you. I understand why you had to leave and why you had to fake your death. Logically it all makes sense, but I… there’s this feeling that I don’t know what it is and I don’t like it, but I can’t make it go away.”

“It’s distrust.” Jack wiped his face. “I lied to you, and yer tryin’ yer best but you can’t trust me anymore.”

“I trust you with my life, Jack.”

“Trustin’ me to save yer life and to stay by yer side are two different things. And right now I failed you on both occasions.”

“You did save my life. You put that letter in your medicine cabinet because you knew I might go looking. And, yeah, you did leave, but you came back, despite everything. That means more to me than anything else. You’ve said it before, that sometimes you have to lie to keep those important to you safe. I mean, look at me lying to Bozer about what I really do. If you said you lied, you did it unintentionally. I— don’t know what this feeling is, but I don’t think it’s distrust, and I’m sure once I’m healed, it’ll go away.”

“Once everythin’ goes back to normal?”

“Nothing’s changed between us… right?”

That left Jack at a standstill. Mac saying so nonchalantly that everything was how it always was in spite of everything that happened between them. The fear that was creeping around in Jack’s chest stopped, still there but no longer advancing into something greater.

“No, I don’t think so.”

Mac shut his eyes and leaned his head back. “Good. Don’t want things to.”

It was strange how the air around them dropped. Everything was out in the open and even with all that happened, it was like nothing had. They both had their trauma, but both had each other, just like it had been before. It was like just returning from a mission that had gone belly up, something that was very close to Cairo all over again.

But, no.

Nothing had really changed for them, except both having new scars and stories for them.

“Why don’t we get you into bed so ya don’t wake up with a crink in yer neck? Bet yer bed’ll feel ten times better than this old thing.”

“Think I wanna stay here a bit longer. Was actually able to sleep restfully out here instead of in bed.”

Maybe Jack was looking too much in to it. Maybe he was hoping for something that wasn’t really there. Maybe he was pushing his own feelings on to Mac. He didn’t want to move from the couch either. It had been a very long time since he had a decent night sleep.

***

Morning had come incredibly too soon. Sunlight had cast away the shadows that were looming everywhere in the house in a literal sense, and that morning, did the same in a figurative way. The day had barely begun and it already felt lighter than the previous weeks combined.

Mac and Jack were still asleep in the early morning light, still on the couch and leaning against each other in less than comfortable positions with a blanket over them.

Bozer found the whole thing sweet. He’d woken up early out of habit, figured that it was a good of a time as any to get started on breakfast. Mac was asleep by the time he got home the previous day and hasn’t eaten anything, and he assumed Jack hasn’t either. When he ventured to the kitchen to check if the soup he made was diminished, the two bodies on the couch caught his attention.

Due to previous experiences, Bozer knew the both of them were relatively light sleepers and were usually awake by the time he was up. Mac had bee shot and was on heavy medication, so him not waking didn’t surprise him in the least. Jack was a different story. There were times when Bozer knew he wasn’t making any noise and Jack knew exactly where he was before even opening his eyes. Him still being asleep told a story. But Bozer knew how much they cared for each other. He saw what Jack’s apparent death had done to him. Apparently Jack hadn’t had a good time with whatever he experienced either.

He wasn’t complaining, not in the least. The both of them needed each other as much as they needed air, and in the two years Jack was gone, it really was like Mac was slowly suffocating.

He didn’t know if there was anything he could actually do in that situation. He was friends with both of them— knew some quirks and their schedules, but that wasn’t exactly something he could actively help with. Mac had been shot and Jack had come back from the dead. Both instances were out of his range of how to handle.

He wondered if anything similar had happened when they were deployed. Jack wasn’t ever stingy with stories about what happened. Of course Bozer knew there were things that couldn’t be shared— close calls and overall bad missions. He wondered if, not that the whole thing wasn’t already horrible enough, but if something happened in a similar fashion while they were in the army, and it just made everything worse.

Any way, Bozer would be there for them however he could be.It was something he could watch from the sidelines and offer what he could when he could. And making food was the best way he knew how.

He had leaned to perfect his skills of being silent when making anything in the morning on the fact of Mac getting home from business trips very last into the night. That was a good time to see if he could make everything without waking either of them.

He’d succeeded, mostly— kinda… half way. Jack had said it was the bacon popping that woke him up, but Bozer suspected Jack knew the exact moment he left his room and placed a blanket on them.

“You don’t gotta go outta yer way to make all this before work. I could make somethin’.” Jack had sat himself at the island, having maneuvered Mac to lay across the couch, his tone hushed so to not wake him.

“No work for me today. And besides, it’s probably been a daily long time since you’ve had a breakfast that doesn’t come powdered, from a packet, or a can. I like making food for everyone.” Bozer answered, tone equally quiet. “And I know Mac’s a pain to get to eat when he’s sick, and this is pretty much that times ten.”

They sat in a comfortable silence, bacon sizzling being the only noise in the room. Bozer recalled one other time when it was like that, not anywhere near as serious, but the same feelings nonetheless.

Mac had ultimately come down with a cold, telling Bozer he just needed water and sleep and he would be fine. Given Mac’s track record, he had neither and just got worse, to the point where Bozer had to pick him up from work because he was in absolutely no condition to drive. They’d gotten home and he sat Mac on the couch so he could get his bed prepared, but in full Mac fashion, he was out cold on the couch within minutes. Bozer ended up being him a pillow and blanket, content on letting him stay until it was actually night, and that was probably the first time in many days he actually got some sleep.

When Bozer had just begun making dinner is when Jack came in the front door, worry etched on his face.

“He’s on the couch. Hasn’t moved since I put him there.”

Watching how they interacted then verse now was— funny, or calming. Despite everything that happened, nothing had changed. Both of them were still there, needing each other more than they knew.

“Are you thinking about finding a new place?” Bozer asked before realizing how it sounded. “Wait, no, this isn’t me trying to kick you out. If you wanna move in permanently then I’m all for it. I just mean like— complete honesty I don’t know what happened to your place and all your things, and like it’d be nice to get your stuff and put if how you want it…? You know what I mean.”

Jack let out a small laugh. “Yeah, I know. Tell you the truth, I don’t think I have to look for a new place. Mac told me he’s been payin’ for my old place for a while; everythin’s right where I left it.”

“Oh, that’s awesome. That’s probably where he’s been going all those times. I didn’t know the situation with it and assumed you and him handled everything for you left. There were days where he was gone when I got up and came back way after I’d gotten home from work. I never asked him about it cuz I assumed he was coping, in his own way. But, yeah. You still having your place is awesome.”

“Dunno if I’ll be seein’ it for a while though.”

“I’m sure it’ll be alright if you pop out for a few hours to go get whatever you need or want.”

“I don’t think it’s that simple.”

“I think it’s simpler than you’re making it seem.” Bozer said matter of factly. “I’ve known Mac since fifth grade. I think I know what he’s going through just a bit better because I’ve seen all of it before. When his dad left, he got a little more closed off, and depressed, but overall, he did his best to ignore it and act like nothing happened. And between staying here at his grandpa’s and my house, he felt like he didn’t belong. The spark he had nearly fizzled out. And I saw the same thing when you got called back.”

“Not really makin’ me feel any better ‘bout anythin’ Boze.”

“What I mean is— you came back. Against all odds, you’re back. You did everything right. Despite how it is, Mac’s spark is back, and you’re the one that did that.”

“Yeah, I’m also the one who put it out.”

“Jack… Mac loves you. I love you. It’s gonna be difficult to get back in the regular groove of things, or at least something similar to it. And if you or Mac have problems you don’t wanna talk about with each other, I’m right here. I might not know the best thing to say, but I can listen and do my best to help you two through it.”

Jack clapped Bozer on the shoulder. “Yer a very good friend, man. Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’d probably be okay. I don’t know where Mac would be without you though. Think we should wake him up to eat?”

“Give it another hour or two. We kinda had a late night.”

***

“She’s got a dust cover and everythin’?”

“There was a large possibility of a scratch, or paint, or a piece of dust sitting wrong and ruining it. I didn’t want to take that chance.”

“Oh baby have I missed you.”

The days that has passed were mirroring each other. Mac nearly slept to the early afternoon, woken for food and his meds, then attempted to stay awake like normal only to end up in intermittent sleep through the day. Dr. Shannon had called and asked for them to come in so she could see how Mac was progressing, given it had only been a week since he got home.

“It hasn’t been started since… a long time. Might have been since I brought it here.”

“That’s alright. I mean, technically she’s yers. You coulda sent her to the junk yard if you wanted.”

“Jack..”

“Technically everythin’ in my— yer— place is yers. I left everythin’ to you if anythin’ every happened. So really, I ain’t got a penny to my name right now. Just a bum sleepin’ on my friend’s couch.”

“You have your own room. You choose to sleep on the couch.”

“Easier to get to yer room if needs be.”

An easy silence filled the garage. There’d been many times where Jack had sprung up in the middle of the night to get to Mac’s side; a handful being when they were deployed, and all others when they were home. Nightmares were abundant after their discharge, for both of them, but Jack had a better handle on how he reacted. He would mostly startle himself awake, lay in bed while gasping for air and to get the images out of his head. There were still times when there was a yell, or a scream. He normally couldn’t get back to bed after those ones. Instead he’d sit up and wait to see if he’d woken anyone, and Mac would always knock after a minute to see if he was alright.

Mac was almost the same. Nightmares caused by the horrors of war and missions that went bad. He had a habit of talking in his sleep when they came on, anywhere from a normal speaking voice to screaming. Those nights when Jack was woken up by Mac yelling bloody murder were still some of the most horrible things he’d heard. He never even screamed while they were deployed in a literal war zone. Somehow that was preferable instead of in his own home. But everything time it happened, Jack was out of bed and by his side in a matter of seconds, trying to fully wake him up from whatever he was trapped in.

There’d been one night since everything happened that Jack had bolted up from the couch and barreled into Mac’s room. It was the forth night, just past midnight; Mac was passed out in his room and had been for hours, and Jack had been sitting up on the couch, TV on low and trying to make sense of whatever was on with his good eye shut. He’d been using the drops Dr. Shannon had given him, but there had bee much change. He had just turned the TV off and was ready to turn in for the night when he heard it.

Mac calling for him. Desperate, sorrowful. Once, then twice. Jack thought Mac had woken up and needed something, but the third time his named was called— it was nearly screamed.

Jack had thrown open Mac’s door before he realized he moved.

Still asleep, Mac was crying, nearly lying completely still with his injured arm stretched out, grabbing for something. The wails were something Jack wouldn’t be able to forget about for a long time.

“I’m right here bud. Everythin’s alright. Go ‘head and wake up for me.”

Mac’s hand was grabbed and carefully laid so he wouldn’t aggravate his wound further, and the change from asleep in a nightmare to awake was almost instant. Jack just kept speaking quietly until Mac got his bearings and was able to sit up. He had moved around enough that his wound had bled through the bandages. Jack merely got the first aid kit and began a new dressing, apologizing for any pain he was causing, and Mac sat with his head against the backboard, eyes closed and trying to wipe the ever coming tears from his face.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Jack was expecting silence or a definite no, but was surprised when neither happened.

“I went with you on your mission… and I still couldn’t save you.”

Up until that exact moment, Jack didn’t realize how much the whole situation actually effected Mac. There were the easy to see emotions, but the deep, scarring psychological trauma that came from everything had only barely begun to show.

Jack knew he himself was definitely burying his feelings on the matter, but it didn’t occur how much Mac had buried, or that the need to speak on it would be brought forth by his subconscious.

Jack stayed in Mac’s room that night, both of them needing each other’s company to really get any sort of rest.

“You want to take yours or mine when we go in?”

“Yours probably. I know you’ve taken good care of this old girl, but I think we might need a few times ‘rouns the block before shes ready for regular drivin’ again. Plus, yer car can hold more things.”

It took a few minutes for them to get everything in order before leaving, but it felt like every other time. Mac was in the passenger seat and Jack was driving. That was how it always was.

Maybe… maybe things didn’t change. Things had just reverted to how they were before the two of them met. A— worse time. One where they both were a little sadder and needed a reason to exist.

Jack was certain if he had to stay away any longer that he would’ve sunk back in to that pit of depression where nothing mattered.

And as far as Mac was concerned, he would’ve pushed for more and more dangerous solo missions, trying to prove to everyone that he could do something and had a place in the world, and ultimately putting himself right back in the hospital.

So— maybe things did change. For the better. A weird string of events brought the two of them together, and everything was better off. Jack found a reason to keep going, and Mac found someone who would stay by him.

“Alright. Wanna bet on how many double takes there’ll be today? I think only a handful of people saw last time.”

“We’re going to the medbay entrance. I don’t think there’s going to be a lot of people there anyways.”

“I guess. What if we take a little walk and you act like you can’t see me and I act like a ghost?”

“I spent nearly a month thinking that. No thanks.”

“Party pooper.”

Things hadn’t changed. Not really.

“Ready to get this shindig over with so we can go eat that tub of ice cream and ruin our appetites before Bozer gets back?”

“Ready to fast forward everything’s that’s about to come for the next few months more like it.”

A few more scars for both of them, a little more trauma. That was normal in their line of work.

“Hey, you know I’m stickin’ to you like glue from this day forward, right? Anywhere you go, I go. No exceptions.”

“Bathroom is one exception.”

“Nuh uh. Ain’t like we ain’t showered together before, or needed help with bathin’ after goin’ up the creek.”

Mac snorted. “Yeah, guess you’re right.”

Jack put his elbow on the console. “We’re in this together for the long run.”

Mac clapped his good hand in Jack’s. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“You go kaboom, I go kaboom.”