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Jack knew it was going to be a shit day, he just didn’t know the extent on how shit it was actually going to be. It didn’t currently measure on his scale though.
Part of him regretted joining the army again, thinking he should’ve just stayed out after the CIA, and gone back to work on the ranch with his mother and sisters. At that moment, Jack could only wish for a night he slept through fully, no other guys in the bunk waking him, while back home on the ranch, no one would tell him when to sleep or wake up at. He would be his own boss, second only to the Dalton matriarch who still had everything under control.
But then meeting Mac, Jack felt guilty about wishing he stayed out. Sure, they had their differences and squabble literally their first minute of meeting, but it was all in the past, and Jack warmed up and realized how great of a guy Mac truly was.
But then days like that made him truly regret joining up in the first place.
Because he was covered in blood.
Mac’s blood.
A regular day in that godforsaken desert turned in to an absolute shitshow in a matter of seconds.
“Alright man, let’s get goin so we can come back.”
“You okay?
“I’m fine, just didn’t sleep too good. Don’t know how the hell you and half the other guys can sleep through Nolan’s snorin. Guy sounds like a goddamn lighthouse horn.”
“I’ll get you a pair of earplugs. I dunno what the other guys use but mine are pretty good.”
“I appreciate it man.”
They’d only just gotten to the reported area of an IED, only just exited the Humvee. Mac barely got around to retrieve his things from the back when shots rang out.
“Ya feel like they’ve been sendin out more guys than normal?”
“Yeah. Most of the other techs have been saying all the camps have been sending out an extra handful of guys, but no one’s been given a reason why.”
“COs would tell us if it were important; could be guys out for info, or just a secret mission we don’t need to know about.”
Mac snorted. “Yeah, because those never turn bad.”
Jack had ducked, assumed Mac did the same, but when Jack called to him there was no answer.
“I’ve seen Pat and Joe head out before we do and come back later. Normally we’re on opposite rotations, so if it is a secret mission, they might know something about it.”
“Doubt they’d say. They’re good guys, but if they were told to keep somethin secret, they will.”
“I don’t want to sound pompous, but maybe it’s considered a small matter and that’s why we weren’t told, if it is anything at all. I mean— our stats compared to others—”
“Don’t worry, I wont tell anyone ya think yer highly superior in more than just smarts.”
Rounding the Humvee to Mac’s side, Mac was on the ground, blood pooling from a shot to his calf, one to his upper thigh, and one just missing where his vest ended on his shoulder.
“Where’d they say this thing was? Maybe if we hurry back, we can catch one of the guys in their sleep deprived state and make him give us info, and if he denies, you just turn him into goo or somethin.”
“We’re not going to blackmail anyone for information. But— it’s supposed to be in one of the outer buildings. Nothing more specific than that. So let’s just—”
It was an extremely shit day.
He quickly got Mac up and placed in the back of the Humvee. He was unconscious, not even flinching at how gentle Jack couldn’t afford to be at the moment.
It was bad.
He still had a pulse, jackrabbiting too fast and breathing too shallow.
He needed to get them back.
He hopped back in the driver, wasting no time in calling in the situation and flooring it back to base.
“Don’t die on me Mac.” He glanced in the back. “Don’t you dare die on me.”
Jack’s mind was racing, one thought repeating.
Back to base.
Back to base.
He has to get Mac back to base.
“This really ain’t the best time to be takin a nap brother.” Jack glanced in the back, seeing blood rolling of the seat and to the floor. “Anythin. Gimme any sign showin yer still with me. Please.”
Jack had the accelerator on the floor, pushing the Humvee to its limits. It wasn’t going fast enough. Mac had three bullet holes in him and was losing blood every second.
And Jack wasn’t going fast enough.
“I know we had our differences in the beginning, but this ain’t fair man. You don’t get to do this to me. Yer the best bomb nerd, and yer just a kid. You don’t get to leave yet.”
The radio had gone off, someone asking for more details about what happened, but Jack couldn’t give anything to him; too busy focusing on Mac.
On his hand that Jack knew wasn’t in that position when he started driving.
“Dalton report. What’s Macgyver’s current status?”
And that minuscule movement was enough for Jack to put on a somewhat calm demeanor.
“Three GSWs; two to the leg and one to the upper shoulder. Got him layin on his side to slow the bleedin in his leg but his shoulder is free flowin. Can’t tell if they’re through and through. Non-responsive but does appear to still be breathin.”
“Copy that. Medical will be waiting upon your arrival. Do you have an ETA?”
Not fast enough.
***
“Patient has multiple gun shot wounds and has been unconscious for approximately fifty-two minutes. BP and oxygen are dropping.”
Those two sentences were the only thing Jack could hear echo through his head as he sat in the hospital waiting room.
When they arrived back at base, the Humvee was swarmed by other soldiers, pulling Mac towards med and a few giving Jack a once over. Jack hadn’t even gotten a chance to follow them before he was redirected.
“Got a chopper ready to take you boys to the nearest hospital. Our surgeon is being loned to another base and Doc doesn’t have the equipment or hands to handle it.”
It was almost funny, how everyone just knew Jack would always stay with Mac.
Jack had been in a seat that would be out of the way so the medics could tend to Mac on the journey.
And it was one that took too long.
Mac had been stripped of his vest and shirt, and his pant leg had been cut away. The shot to his shoulder had been a through and through, but the ones in his leg were still in there, and that had honestly probably saved him from bleeding out. The medics had been keeping pressure on the wounds, loosely wrapping them in gauze, and monitoring his stats.
The whole time he was silent. A slow attempt to roll away was the only real sign of life Jack had seen since the whole thing started, and while Jack was extremely relieved to see any sign of life, he wished Mac would say something.
Wished Mac would sit up and tell him he’s overreacting.
Wished Mac would laugh as Jack looked through the first aid kit for a paper cut.
Wished Mac would open his eyes so Jack could see he was actually still there.
Wished Mac was safe, back home in California, doing normal things people his age should be doing.
Instead he was thousands of miles away, in a hospital in a foreign country, closer to death than he ever should be.
And it made Jack sick because he was responsible. He was Mac’s overwatch. It was his job to make sure Mac didn’t get injured while they were out in the field, and Jack let him get shot.
Jack literally had Mac’s blood on his hands. It stained his nail beds and palms, smearing around where his wrists were because of his jacket. It was all mostly dry, but Jack tried desperately to push the thought from his head when he felt something sticky.
“Dalton.”
Jack didn’t bother glancing at Morales, not caring about anything or anyone around him, only the doors he was stopped at as Mac was rushed into surgery.
“Dalton.”
“I ain’t yer fuckin soldier right now. I don’t give a shit bout anythin ya need.”
Morales merely took a seat next to him. “Has there been any news?”
Jack hung his head, shaking it slightly. “Been in there for four hours; no one’s told me anythin… I ain’t even ask.”
Jack respected Sam Morales a lot. He was a good man, somewhat opposite of what Martinez was. He had a lot more sympathy for the soldiers whenever they’d received bad news, be it from the army or from family.
“They tend to work better if they’re not bugged every few minutes.” Morales nodded. “Macgyver came to me a couple months ago; said he needed to update some information in his file. I don’t know the context, nor do I care, but I thought I should tell you in case anything happens.”
That got Jack to look at him.
“As of a few months ago, you’re his power of attorney.”
That made Jack actually look at him. “What?”
“Dunno his reasoning, but he said he needed to update it. When I asked to who, he said you. It’s fairly common for guys that joined for the hell of it to make their squad mates POA, so I didn’t think anything of it, and by the look of it, you didn’t know anything about it. But as of right now, if there’s anything that needs approval, you’re the one the doctors will go to for an answer.”
Jack just stared. He was Mac’s power of attorney. Mac had made the decision to make Jack his power of attorney. That didn’t make sense. They hadn’t even known each other for a full year.
Having Mac trust him enough to watch his back on the daily was one thing, but giving Jack that power requires trust that was on a completely different level. He didn’t think he knew enough about Mac to even be presented with that power.
He knew about Bozer and Harry, and how Mac dropped out of MIT, but other than that, he had no concrete information about what Mac’s life was before the army. He could make assumptions on the information, or lack there of, given to him at random times, but he’d never right out asked Mac about anything.
Bringing up sore subjects wouldn’t do anyone any good.
“Look,” Morales spoke. “The boys that brought you both here have filled the doctors in on Macgyver’s past medical information and are set to leave with the next hour. This isn’t me saying you’re going back to base, merely that you’ll be stuck until you contact us, or you’re called back by both our superiors, and trust me if it happens, they will bring you back.”
“No they won’t.” Jack said it so matter of factly that Morales smirked.
“I know they won’t.” He clapped Jack on the shoulder. “You’re a good man Dalton. Macgyver’s lucky to be partnered with you.”
“If he were lucky, he wouldn’t be on an operatin table right now.”
“I’m talking about you staying here, even though he won’t know unless you tell him. I’ve been in the army for a long time Jack, I know what loyalty looks like.”
Jack stayed quiet as Morales made his exit. He knew that back at base, he’d have to endure guys telling him how they were lucky; how Mac was lucky Jack was right there, or how Jack was lucky not to have been shot as well.
He didn’t feel lucky.
The only thing he was truly grateful for was that Mac wasn’t shot in the head.
And no matter what anyone said, Jack knew it was his fault. He didn’t sleep well, was off his game that day and not fully aware of their surroundings. He knew that if he’d just paid attention, just did his regular sweep when they got to their location, just did his job properly, that Mac wouldn’t be fighting for his life in that hospital operating room.
He sat in the waiting room for another hour before anyone gave him any information.
“I’m not going to sugar coat it for you Sargent. We lost him once on the table.”
That made Jack’s heart drop.
“The bullet that pierced his calf had gotten an artery, but had lodged itself in a way that it was keeping him from bleeding out at a faster rate. We had to wait the first hour just to get his blood pressure back up before starting to operate on him because he was losing just as much as we were putting in. The one in his upper thigh just got muscle and his shoulder went clean through.”
“Will, ah—” Jack had a hard time trying to find his voice. “He’ll be alright though?”
“He’s not out of the woods just yet. The first twenty-four hours after surgery are always the most intense and he’s very susceptible right now. He’s going to be placed in the ICU so we can keep a closer eye on him.”
“Can I see him?”
“I’ll have a nurse escort you when we get him settled, and I know you’re a soldier and have definitely seen things on the battlefield, but I will tell you that it’s a much different scene to see your comrade in that condition. I also have a stipulation if you are to see him.”
“And that is?”
“Get yourself cleaned up. Like I said, he’s very susceptible at the moment and I’d prefer if you were as clean as possible. I can have a nurse bring you a spare set of clothing.”
Jack looked down at himself and his stomach started turning knots. His shirt and pants stained with Mac’s blood; the smears still streaking his arms and hands, and staining his fingernails. He wanted to vomit.
“Yeah. Yeah I’ll get cleaned up.”
***
Jack walked behind a nurse through the hospital halls in new army greens. He didn’t know why or how the hospital had them but couldn’t be bothered to ask. It had taken nearly twenty minutes for Jack to scrub all of Mac’s blood from his person, and all that time he was fighting not to vomit in the toilet. It wasn’t the first time he had a comrade’s blood on his hands, probably wouldn’t be the last, but somehow Mac was different.
Of course Mac was different.
Mac was a young guy with a heart of gold; someone who always put others before himself, someone that always tried to do good, someone that didn’t care if he got the short end of the stick as long as the other was happy.
Someone who deserved the world, but the world didn’t deserve them.
It shouldn’t have shocked him, seeing Mac bandaged and hooked up to various machines; he was pretty sure his father had been hooked up to more on his deathbed, and he’d definitely seen worse while he was in Delta, but it all just looked so wrong when it was Mac.
He was pale, more pale than Jack had ever teased him for. His leg was wrapped in blinding white bandages and propped on a few pillows, as well was his shoulder, with a few pillows supporting his elbow. An oxygen mask over his mouth and nose, fogging up with every small breath.
“What cocktail is goin through him?” Jack asked, voice barely above a whisper, as he gestured to the IVs.
The nurse looked over his chart. “Looks like two saline, an antibiotic, one of our more heavy duty pain killer, and a general anesthesia. And of course a bag of AB negative.”
“Yer keepin him asleep?”
“Yes. The doctor believes it would be best if he stayed asleep for at least a full twelve hours. The trauma to his body was severe and having him awake in such a critical time could cause more harm than good. Once those hours are up, we’ll take him off the anesthesia and allow him to wake up on his own. By then, he’ll still most likely want to be asleep so his body and mind can heal.”
Jack’s eyes went wide. “Mind? No one said anythin bout anythin wrong with his head.”
“You’re misunderstanding. Not a physical injury, but a mental or emotional one. Specialist Macgyver not only was shot three times, but he died on the operating table. That is a very large piece of mental and emotional trauma that he’ll most likely need help dealing with.”
“No one’s gotta tell him he… he’s alive. He doesn’t need to know what happened on the table.”
“I’d advise against it. I’ve been here long enough to see similar situations happen. Even if you don’t tell him, I promise he’ll find out.” He put Mac’s chart back. “We don’t allow visitors after hours, especially in ICU, so I will need you to leave when it’s time, and I’m not asking, but we’ve been told to make an exception when we get him settled in the regular recovery rooms. Your CO was rather clear to point out we’d be doing more harm than good if we tried to keep you separated at that point.”
Jack nodded. “Thank you.”
He stood at the head of Mac’s bed until the nurse left, then pulled the chair that had been in the corner over to the side, and deflated into it. He rubbed his hands through his hair then down his face as everything truly began to set in.
Mac was okay. He was being cared for. He was safe. He was alive.
But he was also in danger. He was still fighting for his life. He had still died.
The last time Jack had cried was when his father passed, and he knew that a few months ago, he wouldn’t have produced tears for Mac. But Mac was such an amazing guy; so kind and smart, so young and full of life that he managed to somehow worm his way into Jack’s heart and become something so much more than just a scrawny kid who needed babysitting.
And then Mac went and made him his power of attorney, a role that presented Jack with so much responsibility, that silently told him that he was trusted so much that he does actually hold Mac’s life in his hands.
Thinking about that just made the whole situation worse.
“I’m so sorry Mac.” His voice didn’t travel. It was barely louder than the machines in the room. “I’m sorry. If I’da just— it’s my job to look. My one job is to look and get them before they can get you, and I failed. Thanks to my fuck up, yer here fightin for yer life instead of buildin X-ray glasses with all the scrap we got. You put so much trust in me to keep ya from getting injured, and I had to go fuck that up.
“Not only that, but I learned that you went and made me POA. That— that’s a huge thing bud. I mean it’s an honor that you’d choose me for it,” he let out a shaky laugh. “But it also puts a big load of pressure on me, because what if I make a mistake and end up doin more harm than good for ya? What’d happen if I made the wrong choice? Trustin me with yer life in the field is one thing, but for everythin outside of it—?
“I never imagined we’d be in a situation like this. Think the worst thing we got was me stepping on that IED before I was ready to get the hell outta this place. You saved my life that day. You know what it’ll do if I can’t save you here? I always get my bomb nerds back home Mac, always. Yer not gonna be the one that breaks that. So I’m gonna need you to get better; open yer eyes at some point and let me see those baby blues one more time. Please.”
It had been maybe an hour or two before Jack had been asked to leave Mac’s room. He’d returned to the waiting room, a nurse asking if he needed anything, but declined the offer and took a seat. He was drained over everything that had happened in those last hours, wanting everything to be over, or for him to wake up from the nightmare he was having. He tried to slip into his old Delta persona; perfect, emotionless, killing machine that no one even dared to look at, but he couldn’t. The guilt and responsibility he was feeling was overpowering everything else.
The only thing that overpowered those two emotions was the sleep he was desperately trying and failing to fight off.
***
“Sargent.” Someone was shaking his shoulder gently. “Sargent, you have a phone call.”
“Thank you.” Jack blinked his eyes open, taking in his surroundings before standing and heading to the nurse’s station and taking the phone. “Dalton.”
“You have any update for us?”
“No. Pretty much the same; not gettin worse but not gettin better.”
“That something I can put on a report?”
“Healin ain’t somethin you can rush, Sam.”
A sigh. “I know. We have some big shot breathing down our necks asking about how the hell this happened since there’s no official report.”
“I dunno what to tell ya. We didn’t see anythin and didn’t even have time to close the goddamn doors before shots went off.”
“That’s what we told them, but apparently they don’t like that answer and want your report. I know there’s no way for you to get one to us even if you did have it, so I’m not even going to entertain the idea that it’s going to get written any time soon. As of right now, until we can’t put it off any longer, the only thing I want is updates. At least once every two or three days.”
“I can do that.”
“I’ll also try to keep you updated with anything on our end.”
“Thank you sir.”
“And Jack, take care of yourself as well. You’re just as important and as much of an asset as he is.”
Jack didn’t give him an answer as he hung up. He didn’t matter in that situation. He wasn’t the one fighting for his life in the hospital.
“‘Scuse me, you happen to have the time?” He asked the nurse.
“Almost noon.” She glanced at him. “You’re here for the EOD we have right?” Jack nodded. “Couple of us that came in saw ya. Can’t believe how you army types can sleep anywhere. As for the man you’re with— looks like he was moved from ICU to recovery a few hours ago. None of us had the heart to wake you; out like a light and didn’t even flinch at any loud noises.”
Jack breathed a sigh of relief. “Can I see him?”
“Take the elevator. Room 423. Someone should be by within the hour to check his stats so they can answer any further question you might have.”
He wasted no time in heading to Mac’s room.
He expected Mac to be sitting up, reading whatever book the hospital could’ve scrounged up for him with tired eyes, and a dumb smile on his face.
He knew that wasn’t what he was going to see.
Mac looked like he was sitting up, only because of how his bed was angled. His head was lulled to to the left facing the door, his eyes closed. There was still an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth, and several bags hanging off the IV pole. He had more color in his features, more difference between his skin and the white sheets he was laying on.
He pulled the chair that was in the corner to the side of the bed.
“Hey bud. Sorry it took me a sec to get back to ya. You look better, almost back to that tan Cali boy surfer look you got goin.” A small smile crossed his face. “Ya know, mama was right. Yer too skinny for yer own good. I swear when we get outta here, it’s straight to the ranch for one of mama’s meals. It’ll get ya at least five pounds in one sittin.”
The smile vanished. Jack put his head in his hands, trying to keep the quiver out of his voice.
“I’m so sorry Mac. I don’t know how many times I’m gonna keep sayin that. This whole thing was my fault. If ya— if you don’t make it… you don’t know what it would do to me. Yer more than just my partner anymore. You saved my life and I’m sittin here, watchin as yers is bein taken from ya. If I could trade places with ya, I’d do it in a heart beat. Just— I need to see yer eyes open just one more time. Lord forbid if it’s the last time, at least… at least lemme apologize properly and say goodbye.”
He didn’t know how long he sat there until someone came into the room to check on his stats.
“Everything’s looking good. His stats are still rising and he’s responding well to the treatment. We’ll get him hooked up with some of the vitamins he’s a bit deficient on to help with the recovery.”
“How long til he wakes up?”
“Hard to say; he’s been off the anesthesia for a few hours, so it should be out of his system. He could wake up in two minutes, could wake up in two hours. It’s all on him right now. His body knows what’s best for it, so if it wants him to sleep, he’s going to stay asleep.”
“But— he will wake up, right?”
“I can’t make promises Sargent, but his chances at survival are certain. Give him a few more hours before coming to any conclusion. In the mean time, did you need anything?”
Mac to open his eyes. “I’m okay.”
“Don’t lie to me Sargent. Everyone on shift who you’ve interacted with have said you’ve asked for nothing, nor have you gotten it yourself. It’s been nearly eighteen hours since you’ve been here, plus however long it has been since you originally left your base. We don’t need you collapsing on us. I’ll have someone bring you something from the cafeteria later.”
A short grin on his lips. Being reprimanded like that reminded him of his mother. “Thank you.”
***
It had been a few more hours until the day turned into night. An orderly had brought Jack a heaping tray of nearly one of everything, he assumed, from the cafeteria that he’d been working through. He hadn’t been hungry at all, but knew better than to pass up food he knew he needed.
There was still no change for Mac though. No twitch or movement of any sort. None of the machines alerted for anything that might be wrong, and no one that came to check on him could give Jack any definitive information besides what he already knew. The only thing that did change was them taking away the oxygen mask, saying he wasn’t in need of it anymore.
That was a good thing of course, but Jack couldn’t help but worry further. Without the oxygen mask, he couldn’t see Mac breathing. There was nothing for his breath to fog on every few seconds, nothing that gave Jack peace of mind that Mac was indeed still breathing. He had to focus to see the rise and fall of Mac’s chest; slow, deep breathing that indicated that Mac was just in a very deep sleep.
Because that’s all it was. Mac was only sleeping. He was out of immediate danger. Just getting some well needed and deserved sleep.
But Jack wished he would open his eyes. If only for a second.
“You need to get some sleep Sargent.”
“I slept earlier.”
“Yesterday is not earlier. If I have to get your commanding officer here to get you to sleep, I will.”
He enjoyed bantering with the same people that had been assigned to care for Mac. They made it seem like the situation wasn’t as dire as it actually was, and gave Jack a weird sense of ease.
“Ya know he said the same thing bout his CO callin me back, but he ain’t got the power to. So no offense but if he can’t do it, I doubt you’d be able to.”
“You clearly haven’t seen what I’m capable of in this place.” She looked at Mac’s charts, writing a few things down before turning to Jack. “What if I promised you that when you wake up, your partner will also be awake?”
Jack’s brow furrowed. “Thought you guys can’t make promises.”
“Can’t make promises we can’t keep.”
“How do you know he’ll be awake tomorrow?”
“I told you, you don’t know what I’m capable of in this hospital. Get some rest Sargent. I’m sure the day will be better tomorrow.”
When she left, Jack just set his eyes on Mac. He wanted to believe what the nurse said, but was so terrified of it being a lie tactic just to get him to sleep for a while. But they hadn’t lied to him up until that point, so why would they lie to him about that.
“Gonna shut my eyes for a bit kid, but I ain’t goin anywhere until you open yer eyes.”
“S’okay.”
Jack’s heart started racing. That one quiet, slurred word was enough.
“Mac?”
Maybe he had imagined it.
But very slowly, had Mac’s head started to turn, only stopping when he was facing Jack, and then finally, finally, did his eyes open.
“Hey.”
Jack couldn’t help the sorrowful laugh that escape his lips. “Hey.”
“Get… sleep now?”
And those two eyes, blue as the sky above, were the most beautiful things Jack had seen.
“Yeah bud. I can get some sleep now.”