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The explosion knocked Jack off his feet. He scrambled back up quickly and ran for the burning building that Mac was still inside.
"Jack, stop!" Riley shouted, reaching for him but missing as he dodged around her and darted through an open doorway.
Smoke was everywhere. Fire licked at the walls and spread across the floor. It was hot, it was hazy, and Jack panicked. Fifteen minutes ago, he'd left his partner to finish clearing the warehouse and check in with Riley while Mac was disarming a bomb in the back corner of the building. A bomb that had exploded.
"Mac!" Jack called out, suffering through a round of coughing before shouting again. "Mac! Where are you?"
He crouched down and hurried toward the last spot he'd seen Mac while a mantra of 'don't be dead, don't be dead, don't be dead' played in his head. He made it to the detonation site; the smoke was thick, debris was everywhere, and he carefully searched for Mac but didn't find him.
"Think, Jack, think," he muttered to himself, trying to figure out what Mac would have done when he realized he couldn't defuse the bomb in time. A doorway was nearby, and Mac would have worked to nearly the last second, so Jack headed to where that door had been blown off.
The back alley was nearly empty except for a dumpster just across from the door and Mac, lying on his side motionless and facing the dumpster.
"Don't be dead," Jack pleaded as he dropped to his knees beside Mac and searched for a pulse with shaking fingers. It took a lifetime, but he finally felt a steady heartbeat. Then, he turned his attention to Mac's chest, instantly reassured by the regular movement. He was alive, and he was breathing.
"Jack!" Riley called as she ran around the corner of the building. She skidded to a stop beside them and leaned over with one hand on Jack's shoulder. "Is he okay? Are you okay?"
He coughed into his elbow as if his body only remembered how much smoke he'd inhaled when she asked. "I'm fine," Jack replied.
"And Mac?"
Jack felt the weight of the question, and he hated it. He had taken on the responsibility of keeping Mac alive a long time ago, and he'd always made sure the kid made it home at the end of the day, or at least the end of whatever hospital trip he sometimes had to make.
Mac was lying on his right side with his back to Jack, facing the dumpster. Jack had already spotted the bloody gash on Mac's forehead which was probably why he was unconscious, but the more important thing that it told Jack was that Mac had most likely been blown into the dumpster when the bomb went off. That was concerning for too many reasons.
"Call for a medevac, Ri," Jack said as he carefully checked Mac's neck and back. Everything seemed intact, and Jack let himself feel grateful before moving on to Mac's arms and legs and then his chest. He had some busted ribs, but that was okay. They could deal with that. Jack could deal with that.
He held his breath as he pinched Mac in the muscle where his neck met his shoulder and breathed out a sigh of relief when Mac groaned, and his eyes fluttered. "Hey bud, take it easy. Stay still."
"Jack?" Mac breathed, trying to roll onto his back.
"Whoa!" Jack stopped Mac's movement by putting one hand on his back between his shoulder blades and the other on his hip. "Don't move. Tell me where you're hurtin'."
"Jack?" Mac asked again, confused and anxious.
"I'm here." Jack considered turning Mac onto his back so his partner could see him instead of looking at the bottom of the trash dumpster. He really needed to know if Mac had any serious injuries before he did that though. "What's hurtin'?"
"Head, right shoulder, ribs," Mac rattled off and winced when he tried to take a deep breath.
"You're okay," Jack said, rubbing Mac's shoulder. "Everything's gonna be okay."
"Medevac's on the way," Riley said, dropping to her knees beside Jack. "How's he doing?"
Mac jolted at the sound of her voice and tried to turn toward her, but Jack's hands kept him in place. "Riles?"
Riley was relieved to see him awake and talking. She leaned over, trying to get a good look at his face. "Hey," she replied. "You okay?"
"Hurts."
She looked over at Jack, startled at Mac's honesty. Jack mouthed 'concussion' at her, and she frowned.
Jack coughed into his shoulder and startled Mac again. "Jack?" he asked, trying once more to roll over.
"I'm okay." Jack was quick to reassure him. "Just a little smoke inhalation."
"The bomb!" Mac exclaimed, moving so quickly and suddenly that Jack couldn't stop him from sitting up and turning to look at the smoldering warehouse. He gasped and curled around his injured right shoulder and ribs. "I couldn't disarm it. There wasn't enough time."
"It's okay, bud." Jack helped Mac lean against the dumpster, relieved that he could see more than just Mac's back and the side of his face now. "The warehouse was empty."
Blood dripped down Mac's face from the gash on his forehead. Riley grabbed her bag, which she'd dropped nearby, and pulled out the first aid kit. She handed Jack a bandage, and he pressed it carefully to Mac's forehead.
"Ow!" Mac tried to jerk away, but Jack had wisely moved his free hand to curl around Mac's neck and hold his head still.
"Easy, easy," Jack murmured. "Breathe through it." He quickly wrapped gauze around Mac's head to hold the bandage and checked his pupils. They were thankfully equal and reactive.
Mac coughed and moaned when his injuries were jostled.
"Where's your shoulder hurt?" Jack asked.
"More the clavicle." Mac tried to lift his arm but winced and grabbed his right elbow with his left hand to stop his arm from moving more.
Jack was gentle as he pulled back Mac's T-shirt and skimmed his fingers along Mac's collarbone. "Yeah," he said, when he found the spot where the bone was displaced, "I think it's broken."
"Feels like it." Mac was miserable, and Jack wished that he could take away his partner's pain.
"Take it easy. Medevac will be here soon."
Unfortunately, the wind chose that moment to change direction and started blowing smoke in their direction. Jack stifled another cough, but Mac wasn't so lucky. Deep coughing jarred his injuries, and he leaned away from Riley to throw up just inches from where Jack was kneeling.
Jack grimaced and patted Mac gently on his left shoulder. "Let it out, man."
"This sucks," Mac muttered when he was done.
"It's definitely not high on my list of things to do again," Jack agreed. "I hate to make you move, but I think we need to get away from this smoke. Can you stand if I help?"
Mac squinted at him for a moment before nodding.
"Let's give it a try. Riley, will you go see what the ETA is on that medevac?"
She took the hint to head back toward their SUV and quickly gathered their first aid supplies and her backpack before she left. Jack waited until she was out of sight before slipping his arm around Mac's waist.
"Let me know if you need me to slow down or if you're going to be sick, okay?"
"Just do it." Mac clenched his jaw and held his breath as Jack eased him upright. His whole body was tense, and Jack knew that wasn't doing his broken clavicle or busted ribs any favors. Mac wobbled but Jack held him steady. He wished he could give him time to get his equilibrium back, but the smoke was too thick and too close.
"Let's get outta here." Jack nudged Mac forward. His partner groaned with each step, but there was nothing Jack could do about it until they were in a safe location.
"How much," Mac gasped as they rounded the side of the building, "farther?"
"We're almost there. Maybe twenty paces."
Jack guided Mac to the SUV and got him sitting in the back cargo area with his feet dangling out. Then, he gave Mac a better once over, starting with the top of his head and moving down.
The bloody cut on Mac's forehead didn't look too bad, so Mac's shoulder had probably taken the brunt of it when he hit the dumpster. There wasn't any other visible blood, which was probably good. Now, he just had to worry about the broken bones and concussion.
Riley appeared at his side, dropped the first aid kit beside Mac's hip, and tucked the sat phone into her back pocket. "Helicopter will be here in five. What can I do to help?"
"See if there's a sling in there."
While she looked through the supplies, Jack ran Mac through the usual concussion questions. His memory seemed intact, including knowing the date, his full name, and Jack's top two favorite Metallica songs.
By the time the helicopter arrived, Jack had Mac's arm tucked into a sling and had pretty much confirmed the fractured clavicle and moderate concussion were the worst of his injuries. Mac even insisted on walking to the helo, even if he did need Jack's help.
The medevac took all three of them to the nearest hospital. Riley caught Matty up on what happened while Mac and Jack were poked, prodded, and, in Mac's case, x-rayed in the ER. After several hours, and twice threatening to sign out AMA, Mac and Jack were released to Riley's care.
She got them to the jet Matty had sent to the local airport. It was a fairly quiet car ride with Mac napping in the backseat due to the pain medication he'd actually taken and Jack intermittently, quietly coughing in the passenger seat. Riley turned a classic rock station on just to keep herself awake.
The flight was only a couple of hours long, and as soon as their feet hit LA soil, Jack herded Mac toward the GTO. "I'm taking you home, bud."
"No arguments here," Mac replied wearily.
Jack imagined that Mac was relieved he wasn't being forced to undergo more testing at Phoenix Med. They'd dealt with enough concussions that Jack was confident he could be on the lookout for any trouble, and the clavicle and ribs would have to heal on their own. Mac's arm was in a sling to limit its movement, and he was sure to be sore for a while, but he'd be okay.
"Can you drop me at Phoenix?" Riley asked, following them to the GTO. Before the mission, she'd left her car in the garage there and rode with Mac and Jack to Phoenix's private airstrip.
"Sure," Mac replied. He leaned against the front quarter panel of Jack's car while she climbed into the back seat.
Jack hovered beside Mac to make sure that he didn't fall over before he could get situated in the passenger seat. It would be Mac's luck to trip over his own feet and get more injured when he was this close to making it home to his own bed.
Soon, they were on their way, dropping Riley off at the Phoenix garage before slowly making their way through afternoon traffic to Mac's house. The third time that Mac jerked himself awake because he was listing toward the door and putting pressure on his injured side, Jack gently guided him to rest against Jack's own shoulder.
He'd lost count of the number of times that an injured Mac had fallen asleep on him. It dated all the way back to shortly after Jack reupped in the Army to continue as Mac's overwatch. That was the first time that Mac had scared him with an injury.
A concussed Mac could be a terrifying ordeal, and that first time, he kept calling Jack by his grandfather's name, but he hadn't told Jack about his grandfather yet. The more that Jack said his name wasn't Harry, the more upset Mac became until he was sobbing and begging Jack to stay with him.
Jack shook himself out of the bad memories as he pulled up to Mac's house and parked as close to the door as possible. Bozer's car was absent from the driveway, which didn't surprise him since Bozer had stayed behind on this mission to work on prosthetics for the Donahue crew's next op. In a couple of hours, Bozer would be home cooking soup and hopefully burgers for their team.
Now that they were at the house, Jack was loathe to wake Mac. The kid would definitely be more comfortable in his own bed where he could stretch out even though he looked peaceful at that moment. He had to be hurting, though, where his neck was stretched to rest on Jack's shoulder.
"Hey, Mac, we're home." Jack gently tapped a finger against Mac's cheek since it would be hell to shake the kid with all his injuries.
Mac groaned as he woke. "Home already?"
Jack chuckled as he eased Mac up to sitting without his support. "You napped through the traffic jams. Are you okay to get out on your own?"
"I think so." Mac yawned, opened the door, and slowly climbed out of the GTO.
Jack hurried around the car and went to open the door while Mac walked the short distance up the path. It hurt Jack's heart to watch Mac struggle with a task he'd done hundreds of times before, but he also knew it was best to give Mac some independence now, so he'd be less apt to fight Jack on going straight to bed and resting.
His worry-o-meter shot up a little when Jack blocked the entrance to the kitchen and living room with his body and Mac didn't even try to push past him. Instead, his friend moved left toward his bedroom, and Jack shadowed him down the hallway.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Mac glared down at his shoes, sighed, and winced when that jarred his aching ribs.
"Let me help, yeah?"
Mac nodded and shuffled his feet forward a little so Jack would have an easier time pulling his socks and shoes off. "Thanks, Jack."
"None of that, now," Jack said, exasperated. "I thought we were done saying 'thanks' somewhere around day 94 of our partnership."
Rolling his eyes, Mac held out his left hand. "Help me up. I need to brush my teeth and change clothes."
Jack pulled him to his bare feet and steadied him when he swayed. "I'll get you a pair of sweats. Do you want a t-shirt?"
Mac's shirt had been cut off by the medevac team, and he was wearing a light blue scrub top the hospital had given him over his dirty khakis. "This thing isn't too bad, and I'm too tired to take a shower now. Maybe in the morning."
"That might be the smartest thing you've said all day."
Mac snorted and headed into the bathroom. Jack quickly got a pair of sweatpants out of the chest of drawers and dropped them by the bathroom sink. Then, he went to the kitchen for an icepack and a glass of water so Mac could take his prescription pain meds.
Jack rubbed his chest, hating that his lungs still felt a little heavy and uncomfortable, while he took the opportunity to do a quick check of all the doors and windows. It wouldn't do for someone like Murdoc to pop up in Mac's room uninvited while Mac was injured, and Jack wasn't at 100% himself.
By the time Jack returned to the bedroom, Mac was under his covers and halfway to sleep. "Here," Jack said, holding out a pill. "Take one of these."
"I'm okay," Mac replied, not even bothering to open his eyes.
"You've been so reasonable up until now, kiddo."
Mac cracked one eye open to glare at him. "You know why I don't like the drugs."
Jack did know because he had a similar reaction to them. The meds made it hard to wake up if you had a nightmare, and Mac and Jack both had their fair share of nightmares. "I'm going to be right here. I'll wake you up. Scout's honor." He held three fingers up in the Boy Scout salute.
"You weren't a Scout," Mac muttered. He didn't look happy, but he held his hand out for the pill, nonetheless.
Jack raised an eyebrow and teased, "How do you know?"
"You've never mentioned it."
"There are plenty of things I haven't told you."
"I doubt that."
"Hey, now," Jack put one hand to his chest as if Mac's words hurt, "you're starting to sound like a teenage Riley."
Mac yawned and lay back down. "Sorry," he said as Jack gently put the icepack over his collarbone.
"Apology accepted. Now, get some rest."
Mac was asleep almost before Jack turned around to kick his shoes off into the corner of the room where neither would trip over them later. Then, he settled in on the other side of Mac's bed, wanting to be close in case his friend needed him. Mac's desk chair was more uncomfortable than any hospital visitor's chair he'd ever slept in, and Jack was exhausted. Between his smoke inhalation and worrying about Mac, he felt like he'd run a marathon or two.
He set an alarm on his phone to remind him to remove Mac's icepack and let Mac's steady breathing lull him into a late afternoon doze.