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Mac was a trained soldier. He went through basic training, EOD training, did drills whenever they had to, he even pinned Jack upon their first meeting. Long story short, Mac knew how to fight.
But Jack’s subconsciousness was still having a bit of trouble wrapping his head around that idea.
In the time they’d been together, Jack had only seen Mac fight once, physically anyways. There’d been a lot of verbal things, arguments with other guys or whatnot where Mac always had the upper hand and always seemed to come out on top. In the instances where it seemed to be escalating towards physical altercations, Mac never needed to fight because Jack always stepped in, shutting it down immediately.
He supposed disarming IEDs we’re also fights, in a very technical way. Mac had once said it was kind of like playing chess, except the game was started with him being in check and if he got checkmated, it wouldn’t just be the king that lost.
“Ya know, that’s an excellent analogy, but my knowledge of chess really stops at the horses.”
“All you need to do is be happy I’m good at chess.”
Jack knew Mac could defend himself in a fight, physical or otherwise, but his subconscious always seemed to step in and deescalate any trouble before it got to the point.
Maybe it was the fact that Mac didn’t have a sidearm. That had been something that really made him stand out from nearly every other guy. He had gone through weapons training like everyone else, knew how to service most of the weapons that were used, but didn’t carry any himself. EOD was typically non combatant anyways, but Mac took it to a different level, making several people in his first tour believe he had signed up as a conscientious objector.
But no. Mac was simply a pacifist who didn’t want to take a life.
Jack didn’t think there was anything wrong with it. Mac was a young guy; had different morals and values than he did. It was fine. Jack would be happy knowing if Mac never had to take a life.
There’d been a few times, maybe a handful at most, with guys that had been temporarily transferred, where they’d bring up their kill count. It wasn’t something that really bothered either of them, but it gave a lot of insight to what kind of people those guys were if they had nothing better to talk about.
“Snipe started taking pop shots at Junior here and I popped him one. Really close too; think the smell might’ve deterred others from coming up on us.”
“Don’t forget about when they’re taking shots at you and I save your ass. I swear we’re nearly the same in count.”
“Dalton I know you have a rep of being one of the best snipers but I think I gotcha beat. What’s your count at?”
“Sorry to disappoint chief, but I don’t keep track of that stuff.”
“What about you Brainiac? What’s your kill count?”
“Zero.”
“Sorry, did you just say you haven’t killed anyone? Haven’t you been here three years?”
“Hey, y’all wanna hear bout how I took out four guys with two shots?”
It was through interactions like that where Mac had gotten a reputation of being spineless, of all things. Mere rumors that circled through other units and sometimes made it back to him. It never seemed to bother him, nor the other members of his unit— who normally tended to make jokes and keep a tally of everything they heard. Mac simply didn’t want to take a life.
But taking a life and starting a fight where two different things, and Mac had no problem with the latter.
There had been times where Jack was in charge of leading drills, mainly for the newest additions of their unit. It was always in hand to hand that he had the most fun with. Mac normally accompanied him as his sparring partner for demonstrations, and nearly always winded up being the one that had been incapacitated and on the floor. No harm no foul, but there had always been that one guy that thought he was over experienced and didn’t need the training, and that’s where Jack had the most fun.
“Tell ya what, if you can manage to pin Mac, I’ll excuse ya for the rest of the session.”
It always happened in threes; first time, Mac pinning them quickly and easily, second time, Mac going step by step and explaining what his opponent was doing wrong and pinning them, and third, rules getting thrown out so it would be a more fair fight, which ended in Mac pinning them.
Jack found it amusing because whoever was Mac’s opponent was always put in their place, and Mac always gained the respect of new troops. Some guys specifically asked if they could spar with Mac because of how he explained things while sparring, others asked for rematches. No one had managed to pin him.
Sparring in training and literally fighting to stay alive were vastly different though.
Jack and Mac’s definition of close call had apparently been different, because while Jack had lost count, Mac had only been at three maybe. Anything over zero was too many for Jack, though he blamed himself for most of them, mainly any enemy that had somehow gotten the drop on them and were too close to Mac for Jack’s liking.
Mac didn’t see any of those so called failures. The only ones he was counting were almost getting blown up by his own user error.
“Why the hell didn’t ya take cover in a buildin? I thought you were supposed to be a genius.”
“You had them. There wasn’t a need for me to take cover.”
The amount of pure, unaltered trust Mac had in Jack was astonishing.
Sure, everyone else had trusted him, but Mac was different. Other techs kept their heads down, took cover from pop shots, only exited the cover when Jack told them to. Mac always stayed in his spot, barely flinching as bullets flew past him, and Jack couldn’t even count the amount of times he yelled at Mac to keep his helmet on. Having that amount of trust was a rare thing.
Of course, Jack trusted Mac explicitly as well. He didn’t trust himself though, because no matter how hard he tried, or how much he wanted to, he couldn’t a hundred percent guarantee he would be there to have his back, especially in close quarters, which is why he had such a difficult time acknowledging Mac knowing how to properly defend himself.
He knew his subconscious was in overdrive and the only way to get it to stop was to actually see Mac defend himself from an enemy. But no matter how much he didn’t actually want to see it, no day was ever perfect.
“Ya know, I’ve excused alotta things, but I gotta draw the line here.”
“It’s not that big of a deal.”
“Not that big— how the hell you gone yer whole life without tryin funnel cake? I thought yer buddy Bozer was like a chef, and you ain’t never had him make you funnel cake?”
“It never crossed my mind that my life would depend on if I’ve ever eaten funnel cake or not.”
Jack let out a groan as they came to a stop outside of the town. It was their last stop before being able to head back. It was a small one, scarcely populated with a little more than maybe two dozen people. It hadn’t been the first time they’d been there, the townsfolk normally scattered, though the older ones usually gave them some sort of grief.
“I’m tellin ya, it’s like a little crispy light piece of deep fried heaven you can have for any meal or even a snack. Ya can put on somethin like bacon or ham and make it hardy, or do what most people do and smother it in five different kinds of sugar and develop diabetes just by lookin at it.”
Mac rolled his eyes, gathering his things. “In all fairness, I don’t really eat fried foods, not even when I was a kid. Fries every now and then but that was really it.”
“Explains why yer so skinny.”
“I’m sorry I’ve offended you with my eating habits.”
“Maybe I can get whoever’s on food duty to make ya some, but like army style. It’d be like a disappointing sandwich ya’d get at a gas station on a road trip when yer starvin.”
“I’d rather wait and have something that actually tastes good if it’s all the same to you.”
They walked through the town, most people giving them space, a handful a children ducking behind buildings while following them, and some people went on like normal, paying either of them no mind. It was a scene that had become accustomed of playing through Mac’s head whenever they were in towns like that, mainly how they must look.
Given they weren’t the first set of soldiers the people saw and most likely wouldn’t be the last, but they were probably the first where only half the team had a weapon. Jack had his rifle in his arms across his front, always at the ready if necessary, but Mac had nothing; no rifle or sidearm, only a crude map of the village so we could mark off places he checked.
“Fair enough. Next time ya got Bozer on the line, I want you to have him make a note so he can make it for ya when you get back; one with like berries and honey to start off. From then on it’s like a buffet for whatever ya want.”
“How about we get this done and then you and Bozer can berate me for my poor food palate?”
Jack had more or less been leading, making sure any space Mac was to occupy was vacant. Mac went through the small alleys and looked through mainly crumbled buildings but hadn’t had any luck. It was like the time he just strayed from Jack, he knew in his gut that there was something there, and he needed to find it before it went off.
He did end up finding it, on the backside of a mainly destroyed building.
“Nothing out of the ordinary; should be done rather quickly.”
“Have at it then. Yer definition of quick ain’t the same one that’s in the dictionary.”
It had actually been relatively quickly. Jack hadn’t even had time to really tell a story about his life. The thing had turned out to be way more simplistic than others, making Mac wonder if that meant there were new insurgents attempting to make different IEDs, which only meant more trouble in the future.
“Alright, let’s get goin. Sooner we get back, the sooner you can call up Bozer.”
“You’re really set on that aren’t you?”
“Hell yeah brother, because he’s a man of food and I know deep in my heart that he’ll be just as offended you’ve never had it before.”
Mac rolled his eyes and gathered his gear and the dismantled IED, then he and Jack started heading back to the Humvee. As they walked through the main street, a man had come out of a building and stopped in front of them, gesturing for them to enter the building and doing his best to explain why in broken English.
“Please, come.”
It was nearly like being told not to talk to strangers when they were kids; don’t go into an unknown location with a higher chance of ambush, even more so for Mac because of the lack of a weapon. It wasn’t even the first time it happened, the few other times usually being kids putting them to play or women trying to sit them down for a bit to eat.
Jack had shook his head. “No can do. Time for us to skidaddle.”
The man looked a bit desperate. “Please, we have map of danger men on wall.”
“Maybe we should see what he’s talking about.” Mac said.
“Yeah, and get jumped the second we walk through the door? No thanks.”
“This is a friendly town, I’m sure they’d like to stay that way for an unseeable future. Besides, if they do end up having information that was offered and we didn’t take it, Martinez will chew us out like there’s no tomorrow.”
Jack huffed and nodded. “Fine.” Mac nodded, but didn’t follow Jack as he entered the building, instead continuing the walk through the street. “Where the hell you think yer goin?”
“You don’t need two people to copy a map Jack. My hands are full of explosives anyways so I’d prefer not to enter any closed spaces.” He smirked at the frown on Jack’s face. “I’ll be at the car until you get back.”
He didn’t turn back, knowing that Jack had an annoyed look on his face. It should’ve put Jack at ease just the slightest; if it was a trap, he would be able to take them all out without having to worry about Mac getting caught in the crossfire, and if it wasn’t then they’d get info on insurgents they might not have. It was a win-win in his head.
Mac had gotten to the Humvee and deposited his things and parts of the explosive into the back and was just about to shut it when he was suddenly laying on his back on the dirt. It was a surprise definitely, but so was the abrupt fist crashing into his cheek and then nose. Mac didn’t even need to think and let his training take hold.
The attacker was somewhat kneeling on him on his right side, so Mac brought his left knee up swiftly, nailing the man in the side, causing him to get off Mac. He quickly stood and tried to assess the situation but his head was ringing, and he tasted blood, either from his nose or biting his cheek. He wiped dust and sweat from his eyes to see the man once again charging at him.
Mac could’ve only guessed what he did to warrant such behavior from a resident of a town that was friendly to them. Maybe he was a secret insurgent, maybe he just didn’t like the US Army, or maybe Mac had personally done something to offend him, though he didn’t think anyone would be upset after disarming a bomb that could go off it the wind blew on it wrong.
He stepped out of the way of the man and got himself into position. No matter how much he didn’t want to, the only way to deal with him was to incapacitate him.
The whole thing was more or less a blur of motions, swinging an arm, ducking away, kicking a leg out. In reality it was maybe five minutes at the most before Mac got him down; a quick punch to the stomach then knee to the face made sure of it.
Mac leaned heavily on the Humvee to catch his breath, trying to understand what just happened. The whole of his face hurt. He could feel blood still dripping out his nose, which made him spit out the blood that had pooled in his mouth.
He looked at the man currently unconscious on the ground in front of him. He was just a regular man, a resident of the town they’d stopped in. A civilian in the horrors of war. He would be okay when he woke, at least Mac hoped. He then looked up to see a few other town’s folk just staring at him, not knowing what to do.
Mac didn’t want to have to deal with them and had a feeling they wanted the same. It was a friendly town. No reason one out liar should change that. So he gestured for them to come close, telling them to take the man home in broken Persian.
They were obviously hesitant but slowly enough made their way closer and picked the man up, bringing him back into the town. An older woman approached Mac, perhaps trying to apologize while gesturing at his face or asking if he was alright, he honestly couldn’t tell nor did he particularly care. He just nodded, saying he was okay and telling her to leave.
He got into the vehicle, sitting back and shutting his eyes for a moment to get his bearings. With his luck he could have a concussion, though his head wasn’t exactly used to being knocked around like that; best scenario would be just a bad headache. Either way, once Jack saw him—
“Mac!”
Oops.
“Hey, what the hell happened? Ya okay?”
Jack would definitely blame himself.
“I’m fine.” Mac pushed away the hand that was gently prodding his face. “Guy caught me off guard and got a few good hits in. Nothing to worry about.”
The frown marring Jack’s face didn’t fade whatsoever. “Where the hell is he?”
“I took care of it, then some of the people took him back into town. No need to ruin a peaceful relationship because of a misunderstanding.”
“The hell is you getting yer face beat in a misunderstandin?”
“Jack really, I’m okay. He got two good hits in and that was it. I’ve just got a headache.”
Jack shook his head and grumbled to himself before getting into the back passenger seat and retrieving the first aid kit. Mac didn’t do or say anything as Jack began to clean the smeared blood on his face and neck. He couldn’t help the slight flinches as Jack went over his cheek, making said man offer quiet apologies.
“That’s as good as it’s gonna get for now.” Jack said, putting the kit away. “We need to get ya an ice pack before the swellin gets too bad.” He didn’t even give Mac a chance to argue, instead making sure he was situated and shutting the door before climbing in on the other side and heading off.
The air in the vehicle was heavy, almost to the point Mac didn’t want to move. It hadn’t been the first time it was like that, though most others it had been Mac radiating the energy. Having it come off Jack with such potency was just— something he wasn’t used to.
“You have a tell, you know.”
“What?”
“Like how you always say I make a face or there just seems like there’s something off.”
“Oh do I?”
“You tense up like you have weights on your shoulders, you wear nothing but a frown, and you go quiet. I don’t think anyone would believe me if I said you did it willingly.”
Jack scoffed slightly. “Well I’m sorry if I ain’t a pocket of sunshine after what happened.”
“Jack, you know that it wasn’t your fault, right?”
“That’s where yer wrong hoss. My literal job in his place is makin sure that you make it back safe and sound every day and from where I am right now, I failed.”
“You did everything you were supposed to. I’m the one that let my guard down and left your sights. You’re not responsible for my personal actions or decisions. Those are all me.”
“Yer missin the point.”
“No I’m not. Your job is making sure I don’t get captured or shot, and you’ve been flawless with that. But you’re putting too much pressure on yourself. I don’t think I’ve ever had someone fuss over me as much as you do, not even Bozer’s mom when I had the flu.” Mac huffed lightly. “Look, I’m not going to tell you to stop because I think you might implode if you tried, but we’re in the army. No matter how hard we try to prevent it, people get hurt, and sometimes it’s just out of our control.” He turned to face Jack. “What happened wasn’t your fault.”
Jack was silent, either letting the words sink in or thinking of a way to dismantle Mac’s argument. But Mac watched his facial features soften a bit and the slightest edge slowly leave his shoulders.
Mac took that moment to laugh a bit. “Besides, when else am I supposed to use the hand to hand? If I have to get punched in the face to be able to actually let loose for a bit then I’m all for it.”
“Sorry, I think I just heard ya say yer glad ya got socked. Maybe yer brain got knocked loose.” A small smirk was on Jack’s lips. “What’ll ya do if yer pretty boy looks get messed?”
“Come on Jack. You think that was the first time I ever got punched in the face? I was moved up two grades in school and practically had a target on my back for bullies. And need I remind you—”
“Nope. Ya actually don’t need to remind me how we met.”
“For the record, you hit harder.”