Work Text:
They shouldn’t have been there.
The quadrant they’d been in was out of their field of range; too far from their base to get to on a regular basis. Nearly a four hour drive one way, and a base that was significantly closer than their own only expanded the question on why Mac and Jack had been chosen to inspect whatever was out there.
“Don’t get it. I really don’t get it. Why the hell are they makin us drive all the way out here with nothin but literal desert all around? I mean sure; drive eight hours one way in Texas and yer still in Texas, but there’d be diners or at least things to look at. This ain’t even our jurisdiction. The hell can’t some other team come do this? Better yet, why can’t another, closer base handle it?”
Mac understood and agreed with Jack’s anger completely. There wasn’t an actual reason the two of them needed to venture out as far as they did when there was a base within a few dozen klicks of it.
“Think they’re substituting best team with only ones able to do it. Maybe I should let something go off, or you let someone get the drop on me.”
“Yeah I’m gonna veto both of those options. If you getting injured is the only way for us to stay on base then I’m happy to do the dumbshit missions they send us on.”
“I’m just saying that if we had a few screwups on our record then they probably wouldn’t select us for everything.”
“Yer practically a certified genius and ya still have dumb thoughts like that.”
“Certified geniuses don’t burn down their side sheds when they’re eleven.”
“Kids do.”
They’d been driving since the sun came up, and it had been up for just over three hours. While some of the drive had been filled with Jack ranting about the stupidity of their commanding officers, other parts were filled with Mac going over all the information they’d been given.
A significantly large abandoned town had an increase in enemy traffic. That wasn’t anything that was out of the ordinary about that, it happened quite often, but the fact of the matter was there was no reason for any traffic to have been there. The only thing around for literal miles was desert; no roads, no water source, nothing that indicated any form of life outside of the base that was still dozens of klicks from it. So it begged the question of what insurgents would be doing there in the first place.
“Coulda at least gotten us a bird to get us to the other base so it’d only be like an hour drive instead of most of the sunlight. Matter of fact, why the hell are we goin? They shoulda sent a scout team in to see if anythin was happenin then called us in if they found somethin you can take care of. Plus what if we do find somethin? What if it ain’t somethin you can take care of in a day? They expect us to just be there all night til it’s dealt with? What if somethin happens and we need backup? One of us gets hit or somethin and we need medical asap. Gonna have to wait like half an hour at least until we get anythin.”
Mac couldn’t argue with anything Jack had said, all his questions and worries made sense.
“Are you saying you think I’d take more than a day to disarm something?”
“Yer the slowest bomb nerd in the world, but nah. I’m sayin what if ya don’t have proper tools for whatever could be there and ya literally can’t do nothin about it.”
“Have you ever seen me at a loss if I didn’t have a tool I need? I can always make what I need. But I’m sure if we contacted the other base we’d be able to get whatever was needed.”
“Yeah well, maybe sometimes someone else should be put in charge of things.”
It took just under another hour for them to reach the town. It looked like several others before them; buildings that were half or mostly collapsed. There were broken pots and crates, abandoned stalls, and deserted bags and boxes. It looked like the people that used to be there were run out. Neither man had full details of how long it had been abandoned, but given the state of everything, it would’ve been years.
But there were also supplies, scattered tools and sandbags that indicated rebuilding. The only problem with that was it wasn’t the townsfolk doing it. There were clear signs, markers that it was insurgents that had taken over, and it was Mac and Jack’s job to find out why.
“Tracks look recent. No more than a day or two old.” Jack said, eying the tire tracks and footprints on the ground. “Think this could be servin as like a waypoint for somethin?”
“They wouldn’t necessarily need to repair this place if it was going to be a waypoint.” Mac said, carefully looking through a pile of scrap. “It’s too close to the one base to think they’d try to actually set up here.”
“Well let’s get a move on and see what we can find and report to the big man so we won’t have to come back.”
They didn’t find much in the first few ruined buildings, nothing but more broken pots and old empty boxes. A handful after that held building supplies; wood, cement, an assortment of tools that looked a bit out of place. It nearly looked like civilians were trying to rebuild the town. But then the ones after held large crates, typical for carrying and transporting any array of weapons.
“Okay what if I write a strongly worded letter to the crazy bastard that sent us out here? I mean yeah we found things but this is more of a recon or intel job. We ain’t recon or intel. Maybe I should get a look at our files and highlight what we do because it seems like we switch every week.”
Mac rolled his eyes as he walked out of the building, more or less tuning out Jack’s complaining. There wasn’t anything they could do about it at the moment, and he sincerely doubted whoever kept sending them on missions would care about Jack’s complaints.
He stretched his arms and took another look around the town. He could see heat waves in the distance, hefty dust clouds coming closer at every second. That didn’t make sense. There wasn’t a breeze to make such a thing happen. He blocked the sun with his hand and narrowed his eyes to see three vehicles coming straight towards the town, and knew nothing good would come of it.
“Jack—”
“How bout we just say no? Hmm? I think since we’ve been labeled best at everythin that we’re allowed to deny wantin to do the shit things they send us on.”
“Jack—”
“Better yet, one of us fakes bein like super sick. I think Doc would go along with it; better one of us fakin it than bein out and comin back actually injured. Might not enjoy us takin a bed for a day but—”
“Jack!” Mac’s shout finally got Jack to stop talking. He pointed towards the vehicles. “We need to leave. Now.”
The slight smile that was on Jack’s face vanished in an instant as he looked to where Mac was pointing. “Son of a bitch. What did I say when they sent us out? Somethin bad gonna happen? I mean fuck’s sake man.”
“Yeah I know. You always know when somethings gonna go wrong. Let’s add that to your resume later. Let’s just go.”
Then there was shouting.
Surprising, honestly. But also not. The two of them had an unlucky streak whenever it came to supposedly empty towns. Given how large that town was, neither of them should’ve been surprised in the first place.
It was coming from buildings they still hadn’t searched. Whoever the enemy was did a decent job of convincing them the ruins of the town was still abandoned.
“Get to the truck, now!”
Gunfire filled the air as Jack shouted. Mac wasted no time in running back to the Humvee as Jack fired back at the enemy. He looked back a few times, making sure Jack was following him, seeing men drop every time Jack fired.
He wretched open the Humvee door, keen on driving off, but then he turned back.
Mac watched as Jack went down.
And it was like time stopped in that moment.
He didn’t care about the men shooting at him, or how they were so suddenly outnumbered. Everything around him was muffled except for the shout that emanated from Jack’s mouth and the unnaturally loud thud as he hit the ground.
It felt too long until Mac got his feet moving, away from the safety of the Humvee and running to Jack. Maybe he was as crazy as guys said he was; running head on towards oncoming bullets instead of away from them. But that’s what Jack would do for him. And he would be damned if he didn’t do the same.
He also knew he would give Jack the same exact response if their positions were switched.
“I’m fine! Get yerself to the truck!”
Contrary to what he said though, Jack was most definitely not okay. A number of injuries were going through Mac’s head, and they all had to do with the warmth wet he felt on his fingers as he hauled Jack up and supported him as they made their way back to the Humvee.
Time had chosen to move extremely fast after that, which Mac was both grateful for and hated. They’d gotten back to the Humvee, Jack being as carefully as possible deposited into the back seat as Mac hopped in the driver. The blood that had coated his hand smeared on everything it touched. It was too much in the long minute it took for them to reach the vehicle. Mac wasted no time in starting it up and keeling away in the general direction of the unfamiliar base.
Jack had situated himself so he was sitting up, gun aimed backwards out the window and firing at pursuers. Mac kept glancing in the rear view mirror, catching pained expressions finding home on Jack’s face with every movement. And the four insurgent trucks that were chasing them. The Humvee was safe; pop shot bullets not able to penetrate the glass or pop the tires unless there was heavy concentrated fire.
Or an apparent RPG, which Mac had to successfully out maneuver.
“Mac—!”
“I know Jack!”
Mac knew. Jack’s life was on the line. Of course he knew.
There was also the matter of trying to let the upcoming base know that they were on the way. Course just arriving wouldn’t be too big of a deal, but giving some sort of a heads up might fly over better when they were being pursued by terrorists.
Mac’s foot was on the floor, eyes watching every movement from the rear view mirror waiting for the first thing to be fired. It was only a few seconds before he made a sharp turn to avoid the oncoming grenade. A yell from Jack rang in his ears, and he sent a silent apology because he knew it wasn’t going to be the only time that happened. Regular reload time would only be a few seconds, but given the current situation, Mac bet on having a minute or two before having to maneuver like that again.
So he took advantage of it.
His hand went to the radio, hastily trying reach the proper channel to communicate with other bases. After finally getting it, he grabbed the mic. He started rattling off the situation; who he was, what they were doing, what was happening, not fully expecting any sort of answer with how little of sense he was making. Words were jumbled with swears and grunts, and more than a few hollers from Jack.
A high pitched squeal came from behind, and Mac had jerked the wheel so hard that Jack had slid to the other side of the Humvee. There was red smeared on the seat, more than Mac had hoped to see. Jack needed help, and he needed it that moment.
It was another few minutes of dodging RPGs and pushing the Humvee to its max before there was a reply.
“We copy you Specialist. An assault team will be out to send a greeting to your pursuers. Medics are standing by.”
Slight relief flooded Mac’s system.
“How you doing back there Jack?”
“I ain’t gonna lie, I could be better.”
Jack not cracking a joke made Mac realize how bad the situation was getting. The only thing that could’ve been worse at that moment was Jack losing consciousness.
“Yer not hurt or nothin right?”
Mac nearly laughed. “You’re the one that’s currently bleeding out right now. You don’t need to worry about me. I’m fine.”
“My job to worry bout ya.”
Not that time it wasn’t.
“Just hang on a bit longer. We’re almost there.”
***
Mac never liked waiting. As a child, waiting meant something had gone wrong, that something bad was going to happen. Waiting sent unnecessary waves of anxiety through his person. Waiting was nearly always followed by bad news. Waiting meant some form of punishment was going to follow.
Mac had been waiting for two hours for any news on Jack’s condition.
As they passed the line of the assault team, Jack had started to lose consciousness, and was completely out by the time Mac got them to the base. He didn’t even get a full view of Jack as they arrived with how many soldiers swarmed their Humvee, but the amount of blood that was left in the back was too much, and just thinking about what could happen made Mac sick.
The base was different than what was expected. It was permanent; actual buildings with walls instead of tents. It wasn’t the first time Mac had been in one, but they were a bit uncommon.
The commander, Holler, or something of that nature, had informed Mac that he had contacted their base shortly after Mac had first contacted them about being pursued. He also said his CO’s CO wanted an immediate report about what went wrong, and that Martinez apparently told him to, in a more professional manner, to shove his request where the sun doesn’t shine.
Mac was also given a spare uniform to change into since the surprisingly large amount of blood on his current one made it look like he too was injured. He couldn’t get himself to change though. He had no energy for it. Every time he saw his hands, saw Jack’s blood on them, whatever bit of energy he had was sapped away.
So he spent those hours sitting in a chair, in blood covered fatigues, waiting for any word on Jack.
His mind kept slipping into every worst case scenario; Jack bleeding out, or coding, or needing a vital organ they didn’t have. A whirlwind of what if was cycling through his head, a series of everything that could go wrong, would.
And through that, his mind slipped and begun thinking of Jack’s family. Of his mother and sisters, and too many cousins to keep track of. The people Jack loved most in the world and whom he spoke of so often, how excited he was to finally be going home to see them after so many years.
But then Mac happened. Mac was the reason Jack was still there in Afghanistan. So ultimately, it was Mac’s fault Jack had been shot and was currently fighting for his life in the base’s medical. If Jack died, Mac would have to face his family, inform them that he was the reason Jack stayed and the reason he died.
He didn’t know if he could handle that.
So Mac waited, and he hoped, for any word from anyone, to give him any sort of news to let him know if he should start figuring out how to even possibly begin to apologize to Jack’s mother.
And then finally, finally, someone had approached him.
“Your Watch is going to be fine, Specialist.”
Those eight words made it able for Mac to breathe again. His Watch was going to be fine.
His watch. Jack.
Jack was going to be fine.
“I… thank you. What, um, how did—?”
The doctor, nurse, surgeon— whoever they were, Mac really couldn’t tell, gave Mac a pitied smile. “The bullet was a slightly larger caliber than normal, damn Tallie keep modifying their weapons. The bullet also seemed to be fatter and more pointed to the point where it was able to actually penetrate your Watch’s body armor. It wasn’t as deep as expected, but any sudden movements caused it to more or less rip skin and go in deeper. Hearing about your journey to us, it’s not surprising. The bullet ended up in between two of his ribs but it was able to be removed without any further damage. There did end up being tiny pieces of the fabric in the wound, and getting those out took the majority of the time. He’s going to be sore and his arm will be more or less useless for the next few weeks but he’s going to make a full recovery.”
Mac let the words wash over him. Jack was okay. He wasn’t in any danger. He was going to heal completely. He wasn’t dying.
“You can see him if you like. He should be getting settled in the next few minutes. I can have someone bring you to him.”
“Yes, thank you.”
“I only have one requirement for that to happen.” Mac raised his brow. “Get yourself cleaned up Specialist. Wash all that blood off and change.”
***
It wasn’t the first time he’d woken up in an unfamiliar place, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. The first time was something he’d never forget, or really couldn’t ever truly remember, but waking up in a neighbor’s barn with the sheep was something his neighbors or family wouldn’t ever let him forget.
Waking up in a hospital wasn’t anything new to Jack either. The constant high pitched beep of a heart monitor, smell of disinfectant, and slight chatter outside of people walking gave it away before he had a chance to fully come to his senses. Then there was the dull pain that encompassed his shoulder and mid back.
And then it came flooding back to him.
Jacks eyes opened, dull lights temporarily blinding him, and pain stopping him from sitting up fully to see anything and everything around him. If he was in that state—
The panic that had made itself known so suddenly vanished the instant his eyes landed on Mac, sitting in a chair, looking uncomfortable, at Jack’s bedside. One arm was hugging his waist, and the other acting as a makeshift pillow as he slept. But he was up, in a chair, and not in a hospital bed like Jack was. That meant he was alright.
Jack eased himself back to resting position on the bed and let out a relieved sigh, and apparently that was enough of a noise to jolt Mac awake, making him nearly fall from his chair. His eyes went immediately to Jack.
“Hey. You awake?”
Mac looked pale, almost sickly, making worry settle in Jack’s stomach once again. “Not all the way but I’m gettin there.”
“You’ve been out for nearly thirteen hours. Doctor said you needed it. How do you feel?”
“I’m okay; can barely feel anythin.” He adjusted himself slightly so he had an easier time looking at Mac. “How bout you hoss?”
“What about me? Jack, you’re the one that was shot. You don’t need to worry about me. I’m fine.”
“Well considerin ya look just bout as crappy as I feel, I gotta say I don’t really buy it. Ya ain’t hurt or nothin right? Ain’t lie to any doctors or hidin anythin?”
“No… no. I’m really okay.”
“Then you wanna tell me why ya look like yer gonna keel over any second?”
Mac ran a hand down his face. “Jack— you almost died.”
“But I didn’t.”
“But you almost did. If you weren’t wearing your vest or— or if we weren’t as close to this base as we were, then you would’ve. That shot would’ve pierced through your lung or worse, and I wasn’t in a position to save you. You would’ve died.”
Jack frowned slightly. “Are you tryin to say my getting shot was your fault?”
“It was. We may have been out there on orders, but you’re still here because of me, so anything that happens to you is my fault, and I’m sorry that you had this happen.”
Jack could see it, the turmoil cascading through Mac’s thoughts. Something that should’ve been a short rainfall had turned into a full blown hurricane that seemed to be tearing down every thing in its path. And Jack wouldn’t stand for it.
“I’m only gonna say this once, so I need you to listen to me and save it to memory. What happened to me was in no way your fault.”
“Jack—”
“Ah ah, I ain’t done. You didn’t send us on this op. You didn’t fire a weapon at me. You didn’t have anythin to do with how I ended up here. You did however get me here. You’re the one that out maneuvered the bastards chasin us. You’re the one that phoned ahead so we got people on standby. The only thing that’s your fault is me bein here, alive and on the mend. You saved my life Mac, and I don’t wanna hear you apologizin for it.”
He watched as the words tumbled around in Mac’s head, an attempt to quell the storm that was currently raging around in there. It hasn’t been the first time Mac had been like that, taking all the blame upon himself when he wasn’t supposed to be the bearer of any of it. That time just hit him harder, and Jack didn’t blame him, what with him nearly dying and all. He’d feel the exact same way if their roles were switched and Mac was the one currently laying in a hospital bed with a bullet wound. Only Jack’s guilt would be worse, because it’s literally his job to make sure Mac got back unscathed each time they went out.
“But—”
“Unless the next words outta yer mouth are okay I understand it weren’t my fault, I don’t wanna hear them. There ain’t any buts, ors, howevers, or any sort of apology necessary. Matter of fact, thank you. For savin my life. Looks like I owe ya another wookie life debt.”
They sat in silence for a minute before a small smile appeared on Mac’s face. “Okay, I understand. It weren’t my fault.”
“Alright now, don’t be makin fun.” Jack snorted.
“But you don’t owe me another life debt. You don’t even owe me a first life debt.”
“Yeah that’s we’re yer wrong bud. Saved my life twice, I owe ya twice over. Now how long til we blow this popsicle stand and get back to our own base? I know for a fact that Nolan’s probably got my pillow underneath his head and that just ain’t gonna fly.”
Mac rolled his eyes at the subject change. “They want to keep you for a day to see if you’re strong enough for travel. Holler said once the doctor gives you the all clear then he’s going to have one of their birds drop us back.”
“I’m plenty strong enough to travel right now.”
“You’re hopped up on painkillers Jack. You’re going to be out of commission for a month at least.”
“Only good thing bout that is it’s plenty of time to write that strongly worded letter to the psycho that givin out the orders to send us where we don’t belong.”
“I’m sure.” Mac snorted. “Why don’t you try to get some more sleep?”
“Only if you do the same, and maybe not in an uncomfy that looks like it’s gonna rearrange yer spine at a single movement.”
“Actually, a nurse did say they had rollaway beds if I wanted.”
“Well what’re ya waitin for? I’ll still be here when ya get back, promise.”
Mac rolled his eyes once again and stretched as he got up from his chair, giving Jack a final look before heading out of the room to see if he could acquire a temporary bed.
Jack tried to keep his eyes open, wait for Mac to get back and make sure he had a bed in tow, but the stress and exhaustion had caught up with him and he was moments away from sleep once again. He told Mac he would still be there when he got back, and he would be, but his consciousness would be gone.
Mac had told him to go back to sleep, and that was a request Jack was happy to follow.