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The beginning of their relationship was rocky at best. It was understandable, Jack thought, what with him set to leave, and Mac getting yet another new overwatch. Through those last two months, the bumpy road both of them had set out on had gotten a whole lot smoother, and then Jack had surprised both of them with staying until Mac finished his tour.
There were still issues, basic ones with them still trying to actually figure out where their partnership— friendship— whatever, actually stood. They’d definitely gotten closer in the months following. While Jack was nearly open about everything, Mac had begun to open up, telling his own short stories from childhood to go along with Jack’s.
They’d been together for months, learned so much from and about each other. But there were still secrets, which normally wasn’t a problem because everyone was entitled to their privacy, but when whatever it was started to affect their work in the field is when it should’ve come to light.
It started off small, hardly noticeable, like Mac lingering in the shade or taking an extra minute to get out of the Humvee. Jack hadn’t really paid it much mind, it wasn’t like it was anything out of the ordinary. Having something happen here or there wasn’t anything to worry about, but when those things started to happen on the regular is when Jack started paying closer attention.
The more he paid attention, it looked like Mac was running on empty, like he wasn’t eating enough. Which was true no matter how he looked at it. Mac was too skinny for his own good. He always looked like he was running on empty.
Skipping meals wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for Mac either, sadly. No matter how many times Jack told him, there was always a skipped meal, and it always came with the same excuse.
“I just forgot.”
Jack believed it, because whenever Mac got lost in his head or engrossed in a job or task, he did honestly tend to forget he was a human with human needs, which is how Jack started carrying extra protein bars in his vest.
Of course there were also other times where he, and others, refused to eat; either having a very bad outing, or just being plain old sick.
They hadn’t had any outings turn sour, and Mac swore up and down that he wasn’t sick or getting sick, and even entertained the idea of having Doc Roe check him out. And given that Mac would do anything he could to stay out of med, Jack opted for a different reason of why he was acting off.
Another day or so and Mac seemed like he was back to normal, no evidence of him ever being off in the first place. So Jack let the whole thing go. Maybe Mac had just been in a funk.
But then it happened again weeks later; days of not eating, attempting to sleep whenever the opportunity arose, speaking in a softer tone, taking even longer to disarm. Jack had asked him again if he was sick or coming down with something, but Mac denied it yet again, saying he just needed more sleep.
Jack didn’t push the matter, just agreed because they’d been running rough for a little while and they both needed more sleep. And then again, after a day or two, Mac was back to normal.
Nothing happened for a few months after that. Nothing apart from the ordinary of Mac forgetting to eat or them being worked to the bone. Jack had all but forgotten about it, and though his mother would say different, he didn’t actively go looking for trouble. So if Mac was fine, Jack wouldn’t act like he wasn’t.
It was always sitting, tucked away in the back of his head though, and once it started happening again, Jack paid attention.
It was the same as the first times; no eating, limited time in the sun, sleeping as long as possible, and then a new one of distancing himself from anyone or anything that was exceptionally loud, even though it was pretty much a given in the army. The same day Jack noticed, Mac had also disappeared out of their bunk before Jack was even up, and when he was asked about it, Mac merely said he wanted to eat before it got too crowded in the canteen.
That time didn’t go away after two or three days though. It stretched on past day three and day four. When they’d been sent out on day five, Mac looked downright miserable. He kept squinting, hand never leaving his forehead to from blocking out the sun, flinching at loud noises when he didn’t think Jack was watching. And despite being in the sun nearly all day every day and having a red face at both the beginning and end of the day, Mac was pale; paler than he normally was.
“Dude you okay? Ya get any whiter and one of the boys might mistake ya for a ghost.” Jack kept his eyes on Mac as they got into the Humvee, not missing how Mac’s eyes stayed shut or how his door didn’t slam like it normally did.
“I’m fine.” He pulled the visor down. “Just— haven’t really been sleeping lately.”
“Don’t gotta go out if you ain’t up to it. We can have another team head out and take care of things.”
“I’m fine Jack.”
Jack held his hands up in defeat. “Okay, okay, but I’m reserving the right to put you straight to bed when we get back. And I don’t wanna hear any complainin about it neither.”
Jack was sure that if Mac’s eyes were open, he would’ve rolled them.
***
“—and brother when I tell ya I ain’t ever run that fast before, one of the scariest moments of my life. First and last time I get between a mama and her calf.”
Jack had been watching Mac through his scope, watching as he moved slower, as every decision he made was looked twice over. Mac said it was a simple defuse, nothing overly complicated that they wouldn’t spend too much time with. Jack knew it was Mac speak for less than an hour, yet they’d been there for nearly an hour and a half.
Normally Mac would give some sort of response to show he was listening— a grunt, snort, slight head shake— but Mac was quiet the entire time, and it clued Jack in on how actually not fine he was.
“You almost done dude? I think my sunburn is getting a sunburn.”
“Just— hold on. I’m almost done.”
“Someone’s cranky. I think ya need a nap.”
That earned a small snort. “You think?”
It wasn’t too much longer until Mac told Jack the thing was disabled. Jack didn’t miss how slowly Mac was packing things up, or his uneven walk as he headed back towards the Humvee.
“Dude, you really need a nap.”
Mac grunted as he got into the vehicle. “Yeah, we established that. So can we just— get on with the next one?”
Jack just waved his hand before hopping into the driver’s side. He’d started telling Mac about a time in high school; a student orchestrated Anything but a Backpack day, and how numerous people thought it’d be funny to bring farm animals to hold their belongings. When Jack actually started bleating is apparently when Mac snapped.
“Can you shut up for two minutes?” Mac all but shouted, regretting the action immediately.
The Humvee slammed to a stop. Mac jolted forward only to be slammed back into his seat, making his stomach roll and his head feel like it was under a steamroller.
“Dude what the hell’s wrong with you? And don’t say it’s nothin. You’ve been on and off for the past few weeks and I ain’t said nothin cuz I thought we were finally at the point where ya trust me enough to tell me anythin. So will ya do me the favor of actually tellin me if somethin’s eatin at ya?”
Jack’s loud voice only made the ache in Mac’s head burrow deeper and the nausea creep further along to the point where he couldn’t hold it anymore.
So instead of giving Jack an answer, he threw open the Humvee door and stumbled out before losing the small amount of food he had in his stomach on the sandy floor beneath him. He coughed and spattered until his stomach was empty, and even dry heaved a second after. It sounded so loud, the vast emptiness of the desert, to the point where hearing the sound of Jack walking to him might’ve been him walking a metal floor.
“Ah kid.” Even Jack’s voice was like an echo in an empty cave. And the click of a canteen being opened might’ve as well been a gunshot.
“‘M okay. Just— gimme a sec.”
“I ain’t a doctor but I’m pretty sure pukin yer guts up isn’t anywhere along the lines of okay.” Jack squatted next to him, offering the canteen. “Ya shoulda said somethin if you were sick.”
“I’m not sick—”
“I beg to differ there, Hoss.”
“I’ll be alright to go in a minute.” He rinsed his mouth with the canteen. “We need to get to the village before it gets much later.”
“For a smart guy, you really got a buncha stupid thoughts going through that big head of yers. If you think we’re goin anywhere except back to base to get ya checked out—”
“They can’t do anything for me.”
“Bullshit they can’t.”
“I mean it Jack. They really can’t do anything for me. I— already asked Doc Roe about it and he says he can’t help, not in the way it’ll make a difference to me anyways.”
Jack huffed and crossed his arms. “This better not be yer way of tellin me yer actually dyin.”
“That’d be preferable right now.” Mac flinched, pushing himself off the ground, wavering slightly before leaning on the Humvee. “I— get migraines sometimes.”
Jack’s annoyance started to fade away. His sister used to get migraines, and from what he understood from how she handled them, the best remedy was sleeping in a quiet, dark room until the world stopped spinning. To think Mac was actively disarming bombs while his head was threatening to explode itself—
“Why didn’t ya tell me?”
Mac shrugged half heartedly. “It’s not really a conversation starter. I honestly thought I would be fine since I haven’t gotten any in years, but— I don’t know.”
“You take anythin for them? Make it stop hurtin?”
“I did, but Doc Roe’s waiting on another shipment of supplies that’ll have the medication in it. He doesn’t even have auto injectors anymore. So until he gets that shipment, I’m out of luck.”
“He doesn’t have anythin in his dozens of doctor boxes? Not even Tylenol?”
“It doesn’t make a dent.”
Sympathy took a hold of Jack’s features.
“The only thing that seems to help at all is the meds, and Doc normally has a stock but he said there was an issue with the last few shipments and a few cases that were supposed to go out just disappeared. I just have to deal with it. It’s fine.”
“Bud, if my talkin is givin ya such a hard time, enough to make ya lose yer lunch, it ain’t fine. We shoulda just stayed at base, let some other guys handle it.”
“We don’t need to send out other guys just because I have a migraine. No one else would skip out because of it.”
“It ain’t skippin out, it’s watchin out for yer health. You ain’t the only guy that gets migraines; probably one of the more severe ones but not the only. I can name a handful right now that I know have taken a day or two off because they can’t think straight.”
“Jack—”
“Webb, Flux, Dice, Pincer— hell I even think Nolan’s taken a sick day because of it.”
Mac pinched the bridge of his nose. “None of them are EOD.”
“That’s exactly my point. None of those guys can do a fraction of what you do and they still take time to heal their heads. You do so much more than they do, so much more, and yer head’s bout to pop cuz you don’t think you deserve the rest. What would happen if it got so bad that ya couldn’t see straight and you were disarmin? Hmm? End up cuttin the wrong wire or somethin?”
“I wouldn’t do that.”
“No? Because where I’m standin, you can’t hold yerself up or keep yer eyes open more than a few seconds. Ya know I’m confident in yer skills, but even I don’t think ya can disarm with yer eyes closed.”
Mac sighed, attempting to open his eyes. “I wasn’t trying to ignore it. It just— hasn’t been this bad in a long time and thought we’d be able to get back before anything happened.”
“Well lucky us then, cuz we can.” Jack went towards his radio. “Call it in and head back right now and get ya settled into the bunks so ya can sleep it off.”
“No, I’m okay to get the last one.” The pinch of pain on his face betrayed his words. “We’re nearly there already. It’d be a waste of resources if we pull out to have another team get it at this point.”
“Be a waste of resources if ya get yerself blown up while tryin to disarm a damn bomb in yer state right now.”
“The last ones wasn’t complicated. I’ll be fine, promise.”
“I know I’m gonna regret this.” Jack sighed and shook his head. “Fine. We’ll go get the last damn bomb, but as soon as yer done, I’m callin it and we’re headed straight back. No more distractions or other calls. Just a beeline to the bunks so you can sleep it off.”
***
Jack was twitchy.
It wasn’t a good thing for snipers. Being twitchy meant mistakes. Mistakes meant possible death.
He couldn’t help it though.
Mac was hunched over a bomb, with a migraine, in a town that was alive and prospering— as far as they could with bomb threats.
It wasn’t an unfriendly town, but more of one that was just kind of overly annoyed with people intruding. The people didn’t hold back in letting Mac and Jack know they wanted them gone as soon as possible.
“Ya got a bomb here. Ya wanna let it go off and take out whatever’s in the vicinity? Yeah, so back off.”
“I didn’t know you knew what vicinity meant.”
“Yer lucky ya got a headache or I’d slap ya.”
It didn’t take long to find the thing, but Mac wasn’t firing on all cylinders, so it was definitely taking longer for him to deal with. And the fact that he had people watching him didn’t help the matter. A few kids watching from down the street in other towns, sure, that didn’t cause any harm, but the people of that town had literally started gathering to catch the moment Mac was finished so they could hound them to leave. Some of them men had taken a step or two towards him, intentions unclear, before stepping back into the crowd to continue watching.
So yeah, Jack was twitchy.
The only thing that gave him some sort of hope for that day to be somewhat normal was Mac requesting that Jack ramble about something, because despite his head threatening to split at the seams, having Jack’s constant stream of words in his ears helped him think and stay focused.
And it worked apparently, because Mac was done in his regular allotted time, already telling Jack he was done and ready to pack up.
Jack watched as Mac packed up his things, watched the people surrounding him start to dissipate slowly, satisfied knowing that bomb was dealt with, meaning the two of them would be leaving. He watched for another moment before leaving his nest and joining Mac.
“Ya didn’t get stage fright I see.”
“I’m good at hiding it then.” Mac snorted. “Knowing you’re watching my back made it easier.”
They walked through the town, Jack dogging anyone and everyone that watched them. Mac’s eyes were on the ground, nearly shut in an attempt to block out the sun, bumping shoulders with Jack with how close he was walking. His feet were dragging, and Jack could tell he just wanted to get back to base.
It was all easier said than done.
Someone had started yelling at them when they got to the Humvee. Jack didn’t need to speak the language to know that person was pissed at them for some reason. He just helped Mac get his things in, ignoring the yelling person completely.
But when an old plank of wood was thrown and actually managed to hit and break on Mac’s helmet was when Jack finally turned to them and saw red.
“What the fuck do you think yer doin?” He pulled his handgun from its holster and took a step forward. “Huh? He just saved yer ass and yer doin shit like that?”
“Jack… I’m okay.” Mac’s tone betrayed his words. “Just— let’s just get out of here.”
Jack stood stock, only moving when he heard Mac’s door shut. He holstered his gun and climbed in driver’s side and took off.
***
The ride back to base seemed long, longer than it had taken to get out there. The air inside the Humvee was heavy; anger rolling off him in droves. Mac knew he wanted to talk, wanted to curse out the people they had just helped, but knew he was staying silent for Mac’s own sake. Despite the fact the silence was actually helping a bit, the tension just seemed to be counteracting it.
“You don’t have to stay quiet.”
Jack didn’t take his eyes from the road. “I ain’t lookin to scramble yer head more than it already is.”
“I’m alright.”
“I’m not sayin yer not, but ya ain’t at yer all, and those damn idiots throwin things at ya didn’t help the matter.”
“No… but I’m pretty sure I’d fair better with your chatter about trying to dig a hole to China or— or how a goat thought it was a chicken. I’ll even settled for your ostrich story again.”
The side of Jack’s mouth twitched up slightly. “You sayin you actually listen and enjoy when I’m talkin bout home?”
“Well, yeah.” Jack was surprised at the seriousness in Mac’s tone. “I mean, it’s nice to hear stories of your childhood. Kinda makes me, I dunno, jealous I guess.”
It saddened Jack, knowing how bad of a childhood Mac had. He hadn’t gotten a full story in detail, but Mac told him a few things here and there that allowed him to piece together how not good his life was. So if he asked for some silly story from his childhood, Jack would be happy to oblige.
“Well now where would be the fun in tellin ya the same story again? Nuh uh, I got too many to be repeatin the same one. Lemme tell ya bout when me and a few friends tried to recreate chariot races.”
From then on, Jack weaved together a story about him and a few dozen friends from high school strapped whatever flat surface they could find onto any sort of wheel like object, then attached the whole thing to a sheep. Mac had input his own ideas on how to make the chariots work better, but ended up falling sleep at some point.
Jack didn’t blame him in the least. Mac looked horrible. Complexion paler than normal, face scrunched in pain; Jack knew he hadn’t eaten all day either. He was willing to overlook it, only because Mac had been slowly working his way through the water they had.
The whole experience made Jack think just how messed up Mac’s mind was. Mac didn’t think he was worth a few days of rest, even with the amount of pain he was currently in. He’d seen guys nurse a paper cut for all it’s worth. And having an internal rather than external injury was worse, mainly because Jack couldn’t do anything to help ease him from the pain. He didn’t know what he needed to do to convince Mac he was sort so much more than he thought.
The remainder of the drive was uneventful thankfully, and they made it to base without incident. Mac had startled awake when Jack parked the Humvee, hissing and pressing his hands to his eyes to block out the sun.
“Okay kid, straight to bed with ya. No stoppin for anythin or anyone.”
“But—”
“Nope. Our deal was I let you get that last IED, you go to bed. I’ll take care of the reports, and I’ll go ask Doc if he’s got anythin that’ll help with what yer goin through right now.”
Jack exited the Humvee, ignoring the packs in the back for the moment and heading to the other side. He popped Mac’s door open, waiting for him to insist he didn’t need him hovering, but it didn’t happen. Instead, Mac took a few shaky steps from the vehicle, before his knees gave out, and he dropped.
“Mac!”
He knew he would regret letting Mac get that last IED.
***
There was complete darkness when Mac opened his eyes. It was alarming at first, because Mac knew his eyes were open but the complete and utter darkness could’ve meant something happened. He moved his hand towards his eyes and was relieved to feel mere fabric setting on them.
“Hey now, leave that alone. It’s too bright for you to be wantin to do anythin.”
He turned towards Jack’s voice. “What happened?”
“Ya up and passed out right as we got back to base; been asleep for a couple of hours. Doc said it was the combination of goin full force all week and you not eatin. Yer blood sugar was in the ground.” Jack ran a hand through his hair. “How’re you feelin?”
Mac took a moment. “Good, all things considered. Better than I have these past few days.”
“Yeah, Doc managed to get some of them heavy duty meds. Not yer normal ones, but he said they’d hopefully keep ya tied over until the next shipment. Also got a free pass to some actual gatorade and legit pudding to get yer blood sugar back up.”
“Sorry.” Mac slowly removed the fabric on his eyes, squinting at the dull, not too harsh, lights of med. “I didn’t think it would get that bad.”
“But ya knew it could.”
“I thought I could hold it together long enough to get back to the bunks and just ride it out there.”
“You— honestly, I ain’t even surprised.” Jack sighed and looked straight at Mac. “Promise me, next time you feel like shit, you tell me.” Jack propped his elbow on his leg, pinky out. “Alright?”
“Are you making me pinky promise you?”
“Damn straight I am. I know I don’t need to tell ya the history of the pinky promise right?”
“Would you seriously cut off my pinky if I broke the promise?”
“Can you just— don’t make me beg here.”
“Alright.” A small smile popped onto Mac’s face as he took Jack’s pinky in his own. “I promise.”