Chapter Text
Being a folk hero wasn’t too bad, at first.
Kids at school nodded at Mac and said ‘hi’, and Tia Wickham – cheerleader and popular girl, who’d never acknowledged his existence before - smiled at him in a way that had made Bozer nudge him in the ribs.
“But,” Mac had explained as he and Jack had sat in front of the TV the evening after his third day back at school, “it’s all kind of fake. They’re not really interested in me, they just want to talk to me because everyone else wants to talk to me, like they’re hoping for reflected glory or something. It makes me uncomfortable.”
Jack had laughed and shook his head. “People like to be where the action is at, and you stood up to a bully when no one else has before. Don’t worry, kiddo, your moment in the spotlight won’t last too long, something else will come along soon and take up all your classmate’s attention.”
Mac’s notoriety was dwindling a little when a rumour started running around the school that the home economics teacher and the school secretary were having an illicit love affair. Witnesses of long, lingering looks over the main reception desk came forward, and there were claims that both members of staff had been seen entering the stationery cupboard at the start of third period and then weren’t seen again until the end of lunch break. Mac’s classmate’s attention was drawn away from him and he was grateful.
Then Donnie’s suspension ended and he came back to school.
Mac was in an empty hallway putting his chemistry books back into his locker and searching for his English homework when a sudden blow between his shoulders forced him painfully into the wall of metal doors in front of him.
His forearm was grasped in a strong hand and twisted up behind his back and his gasp of shock was cut off when a second hand clamped down over his mouth. Mac hissed as his arm and shoulder flared with pain. The hard edge of his open locker pressed into Mac’s ribs and he twisted in the grip holding him, desperate to free himself.
“My parents have had to have meetings with the principle and the guidance counsellor,” Donnie’s voice snarled in his ear, his hot breath gusted against the back of Mac’s neck. “I have to go to anger management classes because of you. The fight we had is going on my permanent record because you couldn’t keep your stupid, pathetic mouth shut.”
Mac bucked and tried to squirm out of Donnie’s grip but the larger boy used his greater height and weight against him, pinning him against his locker with the bulk of his body. A static scream of panic filled Mac’s head and his pulse surged with adrenaline. Everything had been fine a second ago and now he was trapped, defenceless, with hard hands on him, it was like a nightmare.
Donnie leaned his weight in closer. “You’re going to be sorry,” he rasped and flecks of spittle landed on Mac’s cheek. “I’m going to make you sorry. You’re nothing but a worthless little freak who’s parents didn’t want him and...”
“Hey!” Behind Mac Riley’s shout echoed down the hallway. “Take your hands off my friend.”
Mac felt Donnie’s body shift as he turned to look over his shoulder at Riley.
“You?" He said with distain. "What are you going to do about it?”
“I’m going to kick your ass,” came Riley’s reply.
Donnie scoffed. “You are?”
“We are.” Bozer’s voice joined Riley’s. “There’s two of us and you won’t be able to sneak up on us and sucker punch us from behind,” he said.
“Aw, do you hear that?” Donnie asked Mac, tightening his grip so the five points of pain where his fingers were pressing into Mac’s arm became one burning ache. Mac’s shoulder throbbed from the unnatural position Donnie was forcing it into in, “your little nerdy friends are standing up for you. It would be cute if it wasn’t so pathetic.” Donnie twisted Mac’s arm again and he gave a muffled cry of pain.
“Let him go, let him go right now,” Riley warned.
Jack had told Mac stories about how when he was younger he’d known that his adolescent antics had really landed him in trouble when instead of yelling at him his mother had made her voice go low and steady. “If you ever hear a woman’s voice go like that, all deep, and she’s saying her words slow and deliberate like, you’d better start apologising, son, even if you don’t know where you’ve screwed up,” he’d said. “When a woman’s starts talking like that - all deep and slow and deliberate - you can guarantee that biblical proportions of trouble are a-coming.”
Riley’s voice had been deep, slow and deliberate.
“Oh what will you do, girlie girl,” Donnie mocked, “come at me with your...?”
There was a thud of impact and Mac was pushed forward into the lockers when Donnie’s body jerked. Then he sagged as the hold pinning him against the locker suddenly vanished. He spun around to find Donnie clutching his jaw, his face contorted with incomprehension, and Riley swinging her rucksack back up onto her shoulder with cold determination etched on her face.
“What the hell…?” Donnie squeaked.
“I did warn you,” Riley ground out.
“Stay away from us,” Bozer said, stepping forward. “We know what you are, we all know what you are,” he gestured to the dozen or so other students who were gathering around to watch the confrontation, “and we aren’t interested in your particular brand of lame, ignorant bullying anymore.”
Donnie looked around, taking in Riley and Bozer’s resolute stances and the judgmental stares of the other kids in the hall. He could see in those glares that the mood wasn’t with him, that he had been defeated and that he was outnumbered and outmanned. He raised his chin and set his jaw in a stubborn line.
“Whatever.”
He glanced over at Mac to give him a final hard stare – which was diminished by the slight wobble in his lower lip - and stalked down the hall and away with a poor show of nonchalance.
The show over, the small crowd of students drifted away, all but Riley and Bozer who rushed to Mac’s side.
“Are you okay?” Bozer asked him.
“Your arm,” Riley said as Mac carefully moved and stretched the arm Donnie had been holding to ease it’s aching muscles, “is it all right?”
“It’s fine,” Mac said. He pushed his locker closed and leaned back against it. He suspected his arm would be tender for a few days but that would soon pass. He breathed through the fading pain and the trembling aftershocks Donnie’s attack had left running through him. “I’m fine.”
“Did you hear that?” Riley dropped her backpack onto the floor where it landed with a resounding thunk. “That was the sound of me kicking Donnie’s ass!”
“My God, what have you got in that bag Riley?” Bozer asked. “Bricks?”
“My biology textbook, my Spanish textbook, my humanities folder and my laptop.” Riley listed, grinning.
“I’m amazed Donnie has any teeth left!” Mac nudged Riley’s rucksack with his foot. “Why are you carrying all that around with you?”
“Well, I was about to put some of it in my locker,” Riley said. “Which is a good thing because it meant that I came here and found you and Donnie.”
“Yeah, thank you, both of you,” Mac said. “Thank you for helping me. I didn’t see him coming.”
“I kind of owed you one,” Bozer said, “like how Han Solo rescues Luke Skywalker from freezing to death on Hoth and then Luke rescues Han from Jabba the Hutt.”
“Does that make me Princess Leia?” Riley asked.
“If you want,” Bozer said.
“Of course I want to be Princess Leia,” Riley told him, “Princess Leia is awesome. And there isn’t another character from the original series that I could be is there?” she added.
“Is this going to be another conversation about the Bechdel test?” Bozer asked. “Because you know we agree with you on that.”
“Nah, you’re alright,” Riley said, looking over at Mac. His heartbeat had almost slowed to it’s normal rate but Mac thought that he still must look pale and skittish judging by the concerned frown Riley was giving him.
Bozer obviously shared the same concerns that Riley did. “Are you sure you're okay?” he asked, peering into Mac’s face.
“I’m fine. I might be sore later,” Mac moved and twisted his arm, cringing as the aching muscles flexed, “I’m actually kind of sore now, but I’ll be okay.”
“If you’re sure,” Bozer said, looking doubtful. “I’ll tell you what,” he offered, “it’s time we were in shop class, let’s go, you can have fun and forget about your arm hurting by being the best in the class at everything and the teacher’s favourite student.”
Mac and Bozer waited while Riley shoved some of her books into her locker then pulled her backpack onto her shoulders, “How is that carburettor you're building coming along anyway, Bozer?” she asked as they started walking down the hall towards their classes.
“I can tell you that it’s definitely coming along,” Bozer said, nodding sagely. “For further details please speak to Mac.”
“Mac,” Riley turned to him, “how’s the carburettor coming along?”
“It’s coming along,” Mac said, he felt his tremors slow down to nothing as he fell into step with his friends. Donnie was gone and Mac’s friends were right beside him, maybe everything would be okay now.
“See?” Bozer beamed a large confident grin. “I’ve got the whole thing under control. Come on, man.” Bozer put a hand on Mac’s shoulder and left it there so Mac could feel it’s warm, steady weight all the way to class.
“You know, when I decided to open a stable I imagined myself spending all day with the horses, riding them, grooming them and teaching other people how to ride and respect them. I didn’t see myself spending the afternoon counting tubs of saddle soap.”
Jack waved a hand in front of his face to disperse the cloud of powder that had plumed upwards when he’d moved a bag of worm tablets. He and Mac were in the stable’s store room, a place that as much as Mac and Jack tried to keep it clean and aired always had a lingering smell of musty sacks and a light covering of dust.
“Really? Doing this isn’t what you dreamed of when you decided to open your own business?” Mac joked, pointing to the boxes and bags they’d been auditing. They needed to place an order for supplies and Jack had reluctantly decided that he ought to do a review of what they already had.
“You may find this hard to believe, but no,” Jack said. “I saw myself helping grateful ladies down from their steeds,” he held up his hand like a knight of old helping a fair maiden down from her mount, “not writing a list with things like ‘twelve bags of oats’ on.”
“Twelve and a half,” Mac said, “I found an open bag under those sacks.”
“Twelve and a half bags of oats,” Jack repeated as he made the change to the list he was holding. “That half a bag has been hiding away from us, the little scamp.” He lowered the list and looked at Mac, “See, there’s an idea, we can make this fun!” he said. “We can make doing this dang audit be like playinga game of Hide and Seek! Hide and seek with stuff!” he winked at Mac and threw his list onto the sacks across from him. “I call dibs, it’s my turn. I’ll count to ten and you go and find the louse powder. One…two…three…”
Mac looked up and down for the bottles Jack wanted and, warm from moving sacks of feed, pushed the sleeves of his shirt up above his elbows.
Jack froze. He stopped counting. “What’s that?” He demanded and pointed to Mac’s newly revealed bare forearm.
“What?” Mac looked down to where Jack was pointing. A collection of finger shaped bruises showed the places on his arm where Donnie had grabbed him. The marks were a deep purple that stood out starkly on Mac’s skin. “Oh,” Mac said, trying to sound casual. “I had kind of a run in with Donnie at school a couple of days ago, it’s fine.”
“You and Donnie had a run in?” Jack said. His voice was cold. All the good humour had vanished from his face. “A run in? What does that mean? What happened?”
“He just grabbed my arm. It’s nothing.”
“That’s not nothing Mac,” Jack insisted, jabbing his finger at Mac’s arm. A hard edge had joined the ice in his voice and Mac drew back a little from it’s vehemence. “It’s the exact opposite of nothing.” He looked up from Mac’s arm to pin him with his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me about it?”
“I just…” Mac stuttered, confused and alarmed by Jack’s intensity. “I just didn’t say anything because I didn’t think it was important.”
“It’s important that I know if you get hurt.” Jack looked resolute. He looked angry. “We have a rule about that, remember?”
“I do.” Mac tugged his shirt sleeves back down again but that must have been the wrong thing to do because Jack bristled. “I’m sorry, I...”
“Why have you been hiding those bruises?” Jack demanded.
“I haven’t, Jack.” Mac hadn’t realised how good and safe he’d felt until he suddenly didn’t anymore. He and his dad had been joking, everything had been fine but now it wasn’t and he didn’t know how to fix it. “I haven’t been hiding anything.”
Jack’s expression was still stony. “You haven’t been wearing long sleeves to cover those marks?”
“No!” Mac said. “The weather has been too cold to just wear a T shirt, that’s all, it’s not a problem.”
“This,” Jack stepped closer to Mac and slipped a hand under his wrist to raise his bruised arm, “is a problem.”
Jack was never demanding like this with Mac, or this confrontational. But Mac had made him angry and now...A seed of anxiety settled in Mac’s stomach - he didn’t know what to do. The store room door was opposite Mac, he looked across to the sunlit openness of the stable beyond it but Jack was between him and it and Mac couldn’t get to it without passing too close to him.
“Why did you hide those bruises and lie about them, did Donnie threaten you?”
“I haven’t been lying,” Mac protested. Hurt by Jack’s accusation he stepped back, drawing his arm out of Jack’s hold. “It just didn’t seem important and I didn’t want to worry you. The thing between me and Donnie is over, he hasn’t been near me, Bozer or Riley since this happened.” Maybe he should have told Jack about what had happened. He really should have told Jack about what had happened. But Mac hadn’t wanted to talk about it. Jack would have worried, felt bad that he hadn’t done something to prevent it then called the school insisting he talk to the Principle. Mac didn’t want any more fuss or attention. As far as Mac was concerned the whole situation was over and he didn’t want it dragging up again. He wanted everything to go back to normal, he hadn’t liked being looked at and talked about.
“You didn’t tell me the truth about what happened,” Jack hadn’t moved any closer to Mac but he was stood over him, his hands jammed onto his hips. “Isn’t that what they call a lie of omission?”
“I didn’t lie!” He hadn’t lied, he hadn’t meant to, not then, and not before. “I didn’t!” He’d had a father who had accused him of lying, before, one who’d been furious, who’d loomed over him with leather hard threats screaming, ‘don’t you ever think you can lie to me you little...’ The anxious seed in Mac’s gut grew into something knife-like and breath taking.
Jack gritted his jaw, his eyes narrowed and steely. He shifted his weight from foot to foot. “I’m going to call Dr Albright,” he said. “She needs to know about this.”
“No!” Mac had never seen Jack this worked up, even when he’d been upset. “That will just make things worse. It’s all over now, if you call Dr Albright you’ll just stir everything up again. Please.” Mac risked reaching out to pluck at the cuff of Jack’s shirt sleeve. “Please don’t.”
“Do you have any more bruises?” Jack said, capturing the wrist of the hand that was tugging at his sleeve. He took a step closer to Mac, crowding him. “Did Donnie hurt you anywhere else?”
“No. No he didn’t.”
Jack ignored Mac’s denial. He looked him up and down then let go of his wrist to take hold of his face, a palm on each side of his head, tilting it from side to side, his thumbs tucked under Mac’s chin to push his head up so he could examine him from every angle.
Jack’s hands were hot and insistent against Mac’s skin. He jerked away from their restrictive hold. “What are you doing?”
Jack stepped towards Mac again. “Are there any more marks on you? I need to know,” he said, taking hold of Mac’s shoulders with both hands.
Mac tried to pull away but Jack wouldn’t let him go.
“Jack, what are you doing?” Mac said, tensing under his dad’s touch.
“I need to check that you’re okay,” Jack snapped as he squeezed Mac’s shoulders searching for injuries.
“I’m fine,” Mac told Jack, trying to squirm out of his hold.
Jack tightened his grip.
Mac shrunk away from his dad. “I don’t have any more bruises,” he said. “Jack, I’m fine.”
“Just let me look,” Jack insisted.
Jack’s hands weren’t hurting Mac but he wanted to be out from under them. They were unwanted and ungentle. It was too much like they could hurt him, like they might. Mac tried to twist away from Jack, “Please, I’m fine,”
“Mac!” Jack barked in a harsh command. “I said let me look!”
The anxiety growing in Mac’s gut spread, wrapping around his throat, branching out into shaking limbs and burning eyes.
“Jack, stop.”
“I have to know if you’re hurt,” Jack growled, he let go of Mac’s shoulders to grip both of his wrists. His large hands completely encircled Mac’s wrists, the grip of his strong fingers uncompromising. A panicked breath rushed out of Mac. He felt trapped, helpless against the anger of someone stronger than him.
“I’m fine,” Mac said, pulling ineffectively against Jack’s hold on him. Jack moved his hands up Mac’s inner arms, squeezing, testing, rough in his urgency. He shoved Mac’s sleeves as far up as he could get them to expose his pale skin. “I don’t have any more bruises!”
Jack hissed at Mac to shush him.
“Please, I’m okay,” Mac said.
Jack didn’t listen, just kept checking Mac with obsessive determination.
Mac’s arms looked thin and weak in Jack’s large hands, Mac was use to that, Jack had always been a bigger, bolder presence than him, but it had never made Mac feel vulnerable before. “Please, Jack,” he said, “stop.”
Jack’s probing hands reached the bruises on Mac’s forearm and the pressure on them was a dull ache that made him gasp.
He reared away. “Stop!”
“No!” Jack roared. He grabbed at Mac’s upper arms, grasping fistfuls of his shirt. The move shook Mac, snapping him forwards and back again. “I’m supposed to take care of you!” Jack yelled, his hands trembling, fury livid on his face.
Mac wrenched himself out of Jack’s hold. He half fell half scrambled backwards until his back thudded against the wall behind him. He pushed against the wooden wall trying to get as far away from Jack’s anger as he could, frozen. Petrified. His muscles tense and ready to curl him into a protective crouch. His breath was loud and ragged in his ears, joining a high pitched ring of panic.
Jack took a step towards him.
Mac flinched.
And Jack’s expression crumbled.
Rage fell from his face leaving devastation behind. He staggered back and sank with weak knees to sit heavily on the stack of boxes behind him.
“Jesus, I’m sorry.” Jack folded into himself, his voice a wreck of pain and regret. “I’m so sorry, kiddo.” He dropped his head into his hands, racked with mumbled apologies and choked breaths.
Still pressed against the wall Mac’s breathing was quick and broken and his heart pounded in his throat. He stayed motionless, waiting the moment out.
Jack dragged his hands down his face, his palms rasping against the stubble on his jaw. He let out a bitter laugh.
“I’m supposed to take care of you,” he said, looking over with bloodshot eyes to where Mac was cowering and shook his head in self-disgust. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry if I scared you, I just wanted to know if you were hurt…after all those other times when I should have…”
Jack's breath hitched like he was fighting a sob and he swiped at his eyes with the back of one hand.
“There were all those times you’d get here with bruises on your skin and I’d ask what had happened and you’d say they were from an accident or from playing sports and I’d make a joke and let you change the subject. All those times, Mac,” Jack said, tears running down his cheeks from heartbreak filled eyes. “He was hurting you and I didn’t do anything to protect you. All those bruises - all the bruises I could see, all the ones I couldn’t…you were hurting and I did nothing.”
Jack’s shoulders slumped and his head dropped back into his hands, remorse sitting heavy on him and Mac could see the weight of it breaking him.
Mac’s heart was still racing and his body still shook but Jack was suffering and knowing that cut through Mac’s fear. He licked his dry lips, “You didn’t do nothing,” he said when he’d found his voice, standing a little straighter, no longer pushing into the wall behind him.
Jack raised his head to look at Mac, hope softening the anguish in his face.
“I didn’t hurt when I was with you.”
Jack had been a threat only moments before but it was hard for Mac to believe that, anyone who walked in the store room right then would have seen a slumped and devastated man. Fresh tears poured down Jack’s cheeks, like Mac’s words had hurt him, but in a way that was healing, like a cut that allows the poison to drain away.
“I’m so sorry I scared you,” Jack said. “I wasn’t angry with you, son, I’m sorry if I made you think I was. I was scared for you and angry with Donnie and with James and I was mostly angry with myself.” He stood unsteadily, like someone who hasn’t recovered enough from a illness to trust their own strength. “Mac, I-” He went to step towards Mac but wavered, not knowing if he would be rejected, not sure if he had lost the right to be close to his son.
Mac stepped forward, the movement hesitant. It hurt to push through his impulse to stay huddled for safety but it felt like the right thing to do. He gathered his will and took a step towards Jack, opening his arms.
Jack took a step towards Mac, then another, then he stumbled into Mac’s arms, crushing them together in an embrace.
“I’m so sorry, kiddo,” Jack breathed into Mac’s hair, “I’m so, so sorry.”
The hug between father and son was too tight and too desperate to be called soothing. It wasn’t tender but it was real and honest.
“I know,” Mac said.
Mac felt something in the air settle around him in the midst of the embrace, like the cooling tick of lava solidifying into a new and fertile landscape. Something had happened in his and Jack’s relationship, something in Mac’s understanding of it had grown and matured. They were a family, he realised, a really real family. They weren’t just playing House with Jack in the role of Dad and Mac acting as a Dutiful Son. They were as messy and as complicated as any other family, with both of them getting things wrong and trying to make things right.
“I love the bones of you, son,” Jack muttered into Mac’s shoulder. He pulled back a little so he could look down at Mac, his lashes and cheeks wet.
“I love you too, Jack,” Mac said. “All the parts of you, right down to your quarks.”
Jack’s forehead creased. “Quarks? Aren’t they the little, itty, bitty bits of stuff that atoms are made of?”
“They are.”
“Well okay then, I’ll take that.” Jack pulled Mac in to place a kiss on his forehead. When he pulled back again his gaze flickered over Mac’s face, calculating and assessing. “Are you really okay?” he asked. “I didn’t hurt you did I?”
“I’m fine, honestly.”
“Would you tell me if you weren’t?”
“I would. I will. I’ll try to.”
“That’s all I can ask for,” Jack said. “You try and I’ll try and we’ll make this work.” He looked over at Mac’s arm and the finger shaped bruises marking it.
Mac cringed at the sorrow and regret on Jack’s face. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what happened,” he said. “I didn’t mean to lie, I just wanted it all to be over.”
“I get it kid,” Jack said, “I think I have just proved that I might not have taken news that Donnie has had another pop at you in good grace. Do you really think it is over now between you and him?”
“I do,” Mac said. He and Donnie had avoided each other since their confrontation in the hallway. Donnie’s reign as the resident school bully had faltered, the teachers were watching him and the other students knew that he had a weakness and that he wasn’t as tough and untouchable as he claimed.
“But if anything like that happens again?” Jack prompted.
“I’ll tell you,” Mac said, “I promise.”
“Did you kick Donnie’s ass again?” Jack asked.
“Riley did.”
“Riley!”
“She’s hard core,” Mac said, “don’t ever make her angry, especially when she’s holding a backpack.”
“I’ll remember that, thanks for the tip.”
Jack pulled Mac into another hug, this one gentler than the last. Mac tightened his hold, feeling like he was the one holding Jack rather than Jack holding him. He was tempted to glance at his watch and make a note of the numbers on the clock because right then, that moment, was the first time he’d found himself actively caring for Jack. Mac had always cared for Jack, of course, but he’d never really taken care of him until then.
It felt good.
Like being needed.
Feeling needed was like feeling wanted. Which was like feeling loved.
And that felt like, Mac put his cheek on Jack’s shoulder and Jack responded by resting his forehead against Mac’s, that felt like everything.