Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“What are you talking about?”

“Patty— gave me some news, ‘bout an old target I thought I took care of years ago. We never found the body and assumed it was just blown to bits, but turns out the bastard was alive this whole time. And I… I can’t let it go. He was my responsibility to take down in the first place, and I didn’t fulfill that job. I’ve got an opportunity to fix it, and I’m gonna take it.”

The conversation had been playing through Mac’s head every day.

“So that’s it? You’re just leaving to go hunt him down? Do you even have any leads?”

“Not really, always been a tricky bastard either way, but I’m certain I can use what little info I got to find him.”

“Well let me come with you. I can help out with finding him.”

“No.”

It had been nearly two weeks since Jack left.

“What do you mean no? We’re a team. You watch my back and I watch yours. You can’t just exclude me on this.”

“This isn’t a DXS mission. It ain’t like any mission we’ve done. This guy won’t hesitate anythin’.”

“All the more reason for me to come with. I could—”

“—I said no. This is my team, and yer not on it.”

Admittedly, Mac could’ve had a better attitude about it.

“Mac— I can’t tell you how bad of a guy this is. I can’t bring you along. Everyone who’s goin’ on this mission already has a target on their back. I can’t have you there and worry ‘bout you every second. I need you here, where it’s safe. I know it’s not— ideal, but I can’t let this guy go free.”

It didn’t make the whole thing hurt any less.

“I'm, uh... I'm sorry I gotta leave like this.”

“Okay, look, you're hunting down a man who's hurt thousands of innocent people and plans on doing it to more, so you wouldn't really be yourself if you didn't.”

“You just keep thinking, Butch. That's what you're good at.”

Bozer had wanted to have one last get together before Jack shipped out, upon being told he had to return to active duty for the army and not that he was going to hunt down an international terrorist that should’ve already been dead. Though thinking back, Mac probably could’ve told him the truth.

“I didn’t know he was in reserves. I thought he was like done done. You’re not in reserves right? You’re not gonna tell me you’re going with, right? I mean I know you got a special army bond with him, but, you’re not going back, right? I worried about you for three years, about you not coming home, and I don’t know if I can do that again.”

“No, I’m not going with. Apparently there were specific orders for me to not join Jack.”

“Army knows. That’s a weight off my back, now I only have to worry about Jack coming back. When’s he set to leave? We could do a cookout and have a little goodbye party for him.”

And they did. Jack had come over early one day and they all spent the whole day grilling, drinking, and watching Jack’s favorite movies.

“Gimme some, Boze. C’mon.”

“You be careful out there, Jack.”

“I will.”

“You're a good man.”

“And, hey, do me a favor and, you know, keep track of my Bruce Willis collection for me, will you?”

“I mean, of course, but you know those old VHS tapes aren't worth anything.”

“They mean a lot to me.”

“Now that I think on it, they're probably collector's items. I'll be sure to keep an eye on them.”

“Thanks, man.”

The actual day Jack left was weird. He said his final goodbye to Bozer the night before, saying his plane was leaving bright and early, when in reality one of The DXS jets was what was actually transporting him. Mac had walked out with him to the tarmac, given him a final firm handshake before Jack boarded and was more or less gone from Mac’s life for an unknown amount of time.

He felt hollow. And strangely angry.

What he would’ve given to have actually given Jack a hug.

But it was done, in the past. Mac wouldn’t be able to think about anything else for a while.

They’d been partnered together for two years, but it felt so much longer. Jack knew nearly everything about Mac; all the things that made him tick. Jack knew things even Bozer didn’t know.

Instantly, Mac had lost his rock. Lost the one person he could talk to about things that would understand them. Bozer was still there, of course, but Mac couldn’t talk to him about the nightmares he still had, or the depression he felt, or about DXS missions when they went wrong. He couldn’t talk to Bozer in the way he talked to Jack. Bozer was his brother, and Jack— Jack was something more. Jack had filled a hole in Mac’s heart, and then he’d left, and Mac was empty once again.

Work was different as well. Patty still needed Mac out in the field. He was still on the road to one of her top agents. So he kept working. In the lab for most days, occasionally being called to the war room just to do an overview of missions and give the other agents a different perspective.

Then came when Mac was actually needed in the field for the first time since Jack left.

It was a weird feeling, and the fact that it felt weird was weird in itself. It wasn’t like the other agents were strangers. Mac knew mostly everyone, if occasionally forgetting their names. They trained together, reviewed old cases together, they’d even gone and done team bonding when he was still new. They were his teammates, but they weren’t Jack.

The mission he went on was simple really; get info and get out. That could’ve been a milk run from Mac and Jack. They had a system, a routine. Most of the time they never even had to talk to each other to get the job done. Mac fell right back into the routine when he went out, forgetting that the person watching his back wasn’t the guy he’d known for three years.

So when Mac started doing his thing, getting questions about what he was actually doing caught him slightly off guard, reminding him Jack was gone, most likely on the other side of the world.

It was perfectly logical for them to ask questions, they needed to know, and in some circumstances, quickly take cover. He didn’t understand why it was frustrating him.

Upon returning from several missions, all which had been more difficult than they should’ve, he was called into the war room, Patty waiting with— not annoyed, or upset, but an overall tired expression.

“I know this is a transition for you, Mac, but it’s been four months, and you’ve had five different partners request to work with other teams. I know you and Jack understood each other, in a way I still don’t understand, and it’s not easy adjusting to others. And this isn’t coming from me; Oversight has noticed a decrease in your productivity and overall completions in the field. They think perhaps it would be best if you went on solo missions for a while. You’ll still be in radio contact, and any backup would be in the vicinity, but ultimately, execution of the entire mission would fall to you.”

Mac was angry.

Not at Patty, not at Oversight, he didn’t even think he was angry at himself.

He was angry— at…

Jack.

It was illogical.

Jack was doing something good. He was on a mission to stop an international terrorist that killed— Mac didn’t know how many people, but Jack said the operation was the biggest since 9/11. And the fact that Jack was supposed to lead the entire thing—

Mac shouldn’t have been angry.

And yet, Jack left.

Jack left him after promising to stay by his side. To watch his back.

All those times when Jack said he’d always be there, the promises that he’d never leave— being there day after day, no matter how good or bad, and even if they didn’t see each other, the texts would still arrive in a timely manner.

All lies.

Initially, Mac was angry at himself. He should’ve known Jack’s promises were empty. Wishing that Jack actually was a constant in his life was a pipe dream, one he was stupid enough to believe. He didn’t know when he exactly started viewing Jack in a different manner, something more than friends, more than blood brothers formed in the sandbox.

He didn’t want to admit it, but with everything Jack told him, everything that he taught, and stories he shared—

He didn’t know when he started looking up to Jack as a father figure.

He hated himself for it, and he hated Jack for leaving just like his actual father did.

The hatred and anger he felt… were wrong. Jack didn’t deserve it, especially with risking his life on a day to day basis. Jack was an amazing person; caring, patient, protective, funny. All qualities that people hoped to have, and Jack did it without trying. The hate was misplaced.

The anger— was a little more difficult.

But time went on, and Mac adjusted to his new life. He became a lone agent, not actively trying to seclude himself from others, but not going out of his way to try to get to know others either.

He went back to his old life before he met Jack.

There were still times when he woke up in cold sweats from nightmares, and he had to stop himself from calling Jack; still difficult missions he couldn’t talk to anyone about. Nearly every time he returned from a bad mission, he was suggested to see the DXS psychiatrist, and even therapist, to help get through what he was feeling. He considered it, honestly, because talking to someone who actually knew the life and could offer real solutions to help with his problems was better than nothing, but every time his mind wandered back to Jack.

Bozer always asked if he wanted to talk, always commented on how he was just a bit— different.

“You seem a little… distant. I’ve heard you have late nights and leave before the sun is up sometimes. I know I’m not Jack, and I might not know the right things to say, but I’m here if you ever need to get something off your chest. And I have to say, I can’t believe it’s been six months and he hasn’t sent us anything so we know where to send stuff. I’ve had a plan planned for so long but I don’t know where to send it.”

Of course Jack didn’t contact them. Jack wasn’t in the army. Mac didn’t even know where he was. Jack was completely no contact, on a mission for an international terrorist.

Jack wasn’t with him.

The reputation Mac got from being a lone agent with a high success rate on missions was strange. There were whispers among other field agents, about how he changed since Jack left. Almost everyone knew them as Mac and Jack, or The Opposites— since Mac barely had two years under his belt, and Jack was the one a lot of people went to for specialized training, or Brains and Brawn for obvious reasons. All that went away when Jack did. Mac was considered The Loner, doing everything by himself, declining team bonding exercises, often going in early or staying late. They didn’t ignore him, but they weren’t going out of their way to try to include him anymore.

Oddly enough, the people he worked with in the lab didn’t really treat him all that differently. Depending on what everyone was working on, they normally worked alone, usually throwing around ideas to anyone who would listen, or asking for a second opinion on something. For the first few weeks after Jack left, Mac had been asked how he was adjusting, to which he said it wasn’t really any different than how it was before. A lie he wanted desperately to believe.

When a year had passed with no word from Jack, Mac thought he’d finally accepted the new reality. He had adjusted to Jack not being his shadow, had adjusted to doing things alone all the time, had actually moved up the ranks in DXS to he was one of Patty’s top agents. He’d even met the new analyst, Nikki, who would be taking over as his comms partner. She’d been a bit over enthusiastic to meet and overall get to know him, which wasn’t really that surprising, seeing as Mac had a weird reputation, but he still kept to himself. He liked her in all honesty, and she apparently really liked him, but Mac wasn’t ready to let someone else in his life.

Then there was a call.

Mac was sitting at home, looking over a script Bozer had given him for an upcoming movie he wanted to make. He’d been up for hours, waking then going on a run, then returning before Bozer had to go to work.

“I have this great idea if you wanna look it over. It’s a really really rough draft so don’t mind any spelling or grammatical errors. I’m kinda going for something sci-fi, so it you wanna add any real science things then go for it.”

Mac had been smiling through the whole thing. It had every futuristic sci-fi trope crammed into one thing. And it was ridiculous, Mac would admit that, but that’s what he loved about nearly every story Bozer had.

His phone rang just after noon.

He didn’t know who he was expecting, maybe Patty asking him to come in, maybe Bozer saying he forgot something and needed Mac to bring it, maybe even a spam call or wrong number.

He definitely wasn’t expecting to see Jack’s name pop up on screen.

Something about seeing it made him angry. One full year had gone by without so much as a letter, or a call— even something being heard through the grapevine. Jack just thought he could call like normal, like nothing had happened. Of course, seeing it meant Jack was alive, which was a whole other boat of emotions Mac didn’t want to deal with.

And as both happy and angry he was to see Jack calling him, he couldn’t bring himself to pick up the phone.

There were things he wanted to say, things he needed to say, and things he didn’t want to say, and he couldn’t really differentiate which was whichever. So instead of picking it up, despite how much he wanted and needed to hear Jack’s voice, he let it ring. And ring. And ring, until it finally stopped.

It was a strange rush, like he was doing something he wasn’t supposed to. A feeling that hadn’t been present since he was in grade school. He didn’t know if he could actually describe it.

When the screen lit up again, indicating Jack had actually left him a voicemail, there was a string a guilt Mac felt. He wanted to hear Jack’s voice, but didn’t actually want to speak to him. He needed time for that, to get his emotions in line. Apparently the year Jack had been no contact wasn’t long enough.

Mac picked up his phone, staring at the notification for what felt like hours before he finally played it.

“Hey Hoss.”

Jack’s voice was rough, probably from shouting commands at people. He’d seen it maybe twice when they were in the army, when Jack actually pulled rank on someone— only because whatever they were doing would have ended up putting the people there in danger. Jack’s voice was also tired, and relieved. Mac could only imagine what had happened that past year, how many sleepless nights he must have had.

But Jack’s voice was the same. It was the same one that told stories about his home, made bad jokes and the best and worst times, sang off key to the songs on the radio. The voice belonged to the same person Mac missed, that had hurt him, that made empty promises.

But it was home.

“Guess yer workin’, or you finally had to use yer own phone for somethin’ insteada mine.”

The familiarity in Jack’s voice, the warmth that always leaked from it— even through the phone— it was like nothing had changed.

“Uh, anyway, I hope you get this. I know it’s been a hella long time, and I ain’t gonna lie, I was lookin’ forward to hearin’ yer voice, I know yer busy with everythin’. I guess I can hear it when I get back. Actually that’s why I called. I wanted you to be the first person to know… I’m comin’ home.”

Home.

Jack was coming home. Not back.

Home.

“Still maybe a week or two out, but, we’re done. We got our guy.” There was a break in the line. Mac almost thought the message ended right there, but could hear muffled shuffling. “I… I know things ain’t gonna be the same for either of us. We got a lot to talk about when I get there. Just thought I’d let you know how things are goin’ right now.” A sigh. “I’ve missed you, Mac. I can only hope you can say the same about me.”

That was when the message actually ended.

Mac sat there with his phone in his hands. The anger he’d been feeling had dissipated completely, replaced with— guilt? Fear? Confusion?— a mix of emotions he didn’t know how to handle.

Jack was coming home. Mac should’ve been over the moon. That was the correct thing to feel in those types of situations. Excitement over a loved one coming back after being gone for so long. But, it wasn’t there. He was relieved Jack was alright and able to come back, of course, but other than that, he just sort of felt numb. It didn’t even occur to him that he never said he actually missed Jack while he was gone.

He’d been so angry over the whole situation, he didn’t get the chance to miss Jack. His brain automatically went to abandonment, just like it had with his father, so why his emotions on someone like that?

But Jack wasn’t like that. Jack hadn’t abandoned him. Jack didn’t just up and leave without explanation.

And all that time, Mac didn’t even think about how Jack felt about the whole thing. He hadn’t considered how difficult it must have been.

I’ve missed you, Mac. I can only hope you can say the same about me.

Those words put so much into perspective. Jack knew about Mac’s past and childhood, knew how lost Mac had felt. He promised to stay by Mac’s side. To just be there for him, and Jack never broke any of his promises, until then.

He listened to the message again, and again, and again. The thought of calling Jack back crossed his mind, but he wouldn’t know what to say, not over the phone at least. There was too much clouding his mind to be able to say what he needed. The guilt over ignoring the call was weighing heavy, but he figured it was for the better.

He would tell Bozer when he got home, and they’d plan a welcome home party, and after, things would be awkward between them for a while, tense, until they talked.

Until then, Mac would wait with the weird energy that was stirring inside of him.

***

The day Jack called, he didn’t know what to do with himself after. He tried to get back to reading the script Bozer gave him, but he couldn’t focus on anything. He thought of working on one of the many projects he had, but upon trying to work with one, he kept making mistakes, simple ones that were frankly embarrassing.

It was days like those where he knew he was under appreciating Bozer. Just like having the bowl of paper clips at DXS, there was a drawer in one of the side tables that held nothing but boxes of them. Occasionally there’d be craft wire left over from one of Bozer’s projects rom his movie props, always various gage sizes. There was none when he looked that time, but it didn’t really matter when there were literal dozens of boxes of paper clips. They were just something Bozer always seemed to pick up whenever he went out.

He took out a box and started bending. Originally, he’d been sitting there in the quiet, listening to the various hums of appliances in the house. Bending them in silence, thoughts trying to make sense of what he was feeling— he didn’t like it. He ended up switching on the TV, not really caring what was on, just needing some noise his head could focus on.

And it worked. For a little while at least.

“Dude, you okay?”

Hearing Bozer at his side was surprising. He was still at work until— twenty minutes ago. Looking at the table in front of him, Mac had gone through five boxes of paperclips, and was halfway through the sixth when Bozer got back.

“You haven’t zoned out like that for a while. Something happen?”

Yes. And also, no.

“Uh, Jack’s coming back.”

Bozer had been ecstatic. He started making a mental list of everything he needed to do for a welcome home party.

Mac wished he could share in the excitement.

A week had gone by before he knew it.

Mac was in the near same position on the couch as before, except reading a book instead of a script. His doorbell rang, and he contemplated ignoring it, and getting one of those no solicitors signs. The thought of the person at the door actually being Jack crossed his mind. He wouldn’t put it past Jack to just show up at his door instead of arranging for pickup.

There’d been an odd air of excitement around him ever since Jack called. Mac was excited to see him again, yes, but he also almost dreaded Jack being back, purely because there was a conversation that was going to happen, and Mac didn’t want it. He knew how it would go; Jack would apologize for leaving, Mac would ultimately forgive him, then things would get back to normal. But that was such a simplified version, and wished that was the one that would happen. Mac knew there would be raised voices, a voice, just him, knew there’d be heavy topics brought up, by him, tears would be shed, by him— maybe from Jack as well.

The worst thing was, Mac would bring up everything. He would bring up the matter of Jack’s broken promise. He would bring up the trust issues. He would accidentally compare Jack to James. Mac didn’t want any of that. He was just nearing being adjusted to life without Jack, and everything had been put to a full stop after the call.

His doorbell rang again, followed by a knock.

He placed the book facedown on the table, keen on sending away whoever was at the door. The only exceptions were his neighbor, Mrs. Bellflower, or any sort of scout selling candy or cookies. Especially cookies, if purely for Bozer to try and make a perfect copy of them instead of paying an arm and leg for a box.

Opening the door and seeing a soldier, specifically a first sergeant, hat held under his arm, with a solum expression—

Mac didn’t understand.

He knew exactly what was happening the moment the door opened.

He knew.

He knew he knew he knew.

He didn’t want to listen. He should’ve just shut the door. He’d seen the look in his eyes so many times before on the battlefield, the realization of a tragedy.

Shut the door. He needed to shut the door. If he didn’t listen then it wouldn’t be true. If he couldn’t hear the words that were being said, it wouldn’t be true.

Mac couldn’t shut the door. He couldn’t stop listening.

He was frozen in place. Nearly stopped breathing.

“The Secretary of the Army has asked me to express his deep regret that your brother, Jack Dalton, was killed in action in Croatia.”

It wasn’t right. The person in front of him was lying. He had just talked to Jack a week ago.

Talked.

Mac didn’t talk to him.

Mac deliberately ignored the call.

Jack’s final call.

Mac ignored Jack’s last call.

He wanted to throw up.

He needed more information. He needed to know. He didn’t want to hear anything else. He wanted to forget the whole interaction. He managed to echo out a how, but the soldier in front of him was either reluctant, or didn’t know the full detail. Mac was surprised at himself next.

“Angus Macgyver, 10th Mountain Devision. 71st Ordinance Group. How?”

There was something that changed in the Sergeant’s features, genuine sorrow and sympathy seeping through his well orchestrated and practiced mask. A look of knowing and understanding.

“An explosion, from enemy ordinance.”

Mac felt sick. He couldn’t breathe. He needed to sit.

He didn’t know how long he sat on the couch after that. Day turned to night. The couch had, at some point, become his bed. If he went to sleep, he’d wake up and Jack would be there. Because that was just a nightmare. Mac was having a nightmare. He just needed to wake up.

He laid under his covers until it truly became night. He heard Bozer get home, heard him call, heard him quietly enter his room— close the curtains, then walk out again.

He should’ve gotten up. Bozer deserved to know.

He couldn’t.

What was he even going to say? Hey Boze. Got a visit from the army. Jack d—

He couldn’t even bring himself to think it. The whole day, he’d been playing what the sergeant said over and over and over in his head.

Your brother was killed in Croatia.

Your brother was killed.

Your brother.

Jack had put Mac down as his brother in forms.

“I’ve missed you, Mac. I can only hope you can say the same thing about me.”

Mac ran to the bathroom and vomited.

***

It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Mac to be asleep when Bozer got home from pulling double shifts because someone called out and Bozer was apparently the only reliable one who could fill in. It was annoying at some points, but ultimately boosted Bozer’s self-esteem.

He’d made it a habit of checking the house on those late nights after he got home. It’s was more than a common occurrence for windows and doors to be left unlocked. It wasn’t like anything ever happened, but Bozer knew the first time he didn’t check everything is when something would happen. It also gave him a chance to see if Mac was really asleep or working on a late night project. Those had become more frequent ver since Jack was recalled for the army. Bozer had joked about the situation.

“Now that Papa Jack is gone, you get to stay up late and do big boy things again, huh?”

Bozer had seen Mac attempt to smile at it, but ultimately failed. He knew the whole thing was much bigger than he thought when Mac didn’t say anything about Jack leaving. It was like he was caught in a funk for months afterwards, and no matter how Bozer tried to talk to him about it, he just shrugged it off.

When Mac told him Jack was actually coming home, he could feel the energy of everything shift. Mac was— not exactly happier like Bozer thought he’d be, but it was sort of more as if he was relaxed…? Not really that either. It honestly reminded him of the time when the both of them snuck out, only to be met with his mother when they tried to sneak back in; a long, difficult week of work for her, only to wake up to two teens breaking back into the house they locked themselves out of. Tired, resigned, done with everything.

Bozer had equated the emotions he was getting off Mac as ultimately being relieved Jack was finally out of the danger of the battlefield.

The night he got home and found Mac asleep with nearly every window and door unlocked, he didn’t think anything of it. A normal occurrence. He merely shut and locked everything then began getting ready for bed himself.

Except he heard what sounded like Mac falling from his bed before running to his bathroom. Weirdly enough, Bozer recognized that exact rhythm, and only happened when Mac was sick. Bozer went to to the kitchen and got a bottle of water before venturing to Mac’s room.

His bed was disheveled, the bathroom door was open, and Bozer heard the telltale sounds on Mac vomiting. He didn’t bother knocking, the slight squeaking of the door was enough to tell Mac he had company.

“Hey man, brought you some water; rinse your mouth out.”

Bozer knew there wasn’t much he could do besides sit and attempt to comfort him, and if even that. Mac never liked people seeing him while he was sick, always keeping to himself to suffer in silence. Jack had made himself an exception to that, always conveniently being there whenever Mac had so much as a cold. It was nice, having someone who loved and cared for Mac in the same capacity he did, maybe even more. Having Jack back was going to be one of the best things for Mac since, well, meeting Jack in the first place.

“Cmon. Chug half of it so you can throw it back up, then we’ll get you to bed.”

He didn’t, mainly because it looked like he was hyperventilating a bit. Whatever sickness hit him must have been bad. Maybe one of the frozen meals was long overdue to be thrown out and Mac was the unlucky one to have eaten it. It had been a little while since Bozer went through all the frozen and prep food. He’d have to go through it on his day off just to clear it out to make sure something like that didn’t happen again. 

Bozer stayed until the heaving dissipated and Mac was just left with his head resting on the toilet and tears slowly going down his face.

Mac must have been miserable. Whenever he was sick, he would always insist he was fine, just needing a bit of sleep and some water. That time he hadn’t said anything. The only sound coming out of his mouth besides the heaving and gagging were deep, guttural sobs.

It was an unfamiliar sound, coming from Mac. It wasn’t the first time Bozer had seen him cry, far from it, but that was different. It was quiet, raw— saturated with something unfamiliar. And Bozer felt terrible that he couldn’t really do much in the occasion besides try to make Mac feel comfortable and hopefully get out whatever was in his system.

“Let’s get you to bed.”

He helped Mac off the bathroom floor, get back into his room, and gave him a fresh set of clothes. He then went to the kitchen to get him something that would be easy on his stomach and more water. Upon returning, Mac was already curled in bed, wrapped completely in a blanket and facing away from Bozer.

“Brought you some more water and some crackers. Try to eat a little. Hopefully it’s just a bad bug and you’ll be back to normal tomorrow.”

Unfortunately, Mac was not better the next day. Bozer checked on him before his shift, and it didn’t looked like he moved at all. The water and crackers on the side table hadn’t been touched, and Bozer debated actually going to work or calling out, because Mac being apparently immobilized from being sick was something worth worrying about. All the other times, it was opposite, and neither him nor Jack could get him to just lay in one place and rest.

Bozer missed Jack. He’d know exactly what to do in that situation.

Bozer rounded Mac’s bed and put a hand on his forehead. No temperature. That was good at least.

“Go to work, Boze.” Mac’s somewhat hoarse voice startled him slightly. “I’ll be alright.”

“I dunno Mac. You look pretty terrible. Did you even get any sleep last night?”

“In and out for the most part. I just need some actual rest and I’ll be fine.”

He didn’t want to, but the strange pleading in Mac’s eyes left him with basically no choice. He brought him more snacks and water that should’ve sustained him throughout the day, and told Mac to call if he needed anything before heading out to work.

He hoped Mac was right, that he just needed some real sleep and he’d be back to normal.

***

Mac hated himself. He didn’t like lying to Bozer. Rest wouldn’t fix him, wouldn’t help him get back to normal. He didn’t even know what normal was anymore.

He just kept thinking about it, about what he was told the previous day.

There was no way Jack could’ve been killed. He was elite. He was the best sniper in their squad in the army, he was the leader of a group of Delta soldiers, he was leader of that mission.

And he died, from a bomb.

A bomb Mac would’ve taken care of if Jack took him along.

Jack would still be alive if he had just taken Mac along.

The anger was returning, stupidly.

Mac had no right—

Jack had no right—

The situation was horrible.

He heard his phone vibrating somewhere on his bed, not bothering to look for it. He couldn’t talk to anyone at that time. It didn’t matter who it was. He had just barely managed to tell Bozer to go to work without having a snap in his tone. Whoever was on the other end of the line didn’t deserve the attitude Mac would give them.

Mac did try to get up and… deal, after several hours of lying in bed. He put some laundry in— containing some of Jack’s shirts that were always there, did the dishes— which included a custom mug Jack got Mac for his birthday, went outside and swept the deck— even though “the leaves are just gonna come on back when the wind picked up.”

Mac’s own house reminded him of Jack.

He needed to get out, just for a while.

He changed out of the pajamas he never bothered to earlier. It felt like too much effort even then. He laced up his shoes, and hesitantly grabbed his phone. He didn’t think he would bother responding to anyone if he got calls or messages, and quite frankly, having his job know where he was at all times wasn’t something he was going to get used to any time soon. But the thought of getting into an accident and needing to call for help was something that crossed his mind. He found that he didn’t care that much, thinking about it, which was something he didn’t like. It was something that Jack drilled into his head after a few close calls on missions.

“Always have yer phone on ya so you can call me if somethin’ happens. I’ll get there way faster than any emergency services.”

Jack wasn’t there for him to call anymore.

He started his run just like any other, going to the trail close to the house. It was something familiar, something he could do with his eyes closed. It was his thing. He remembered inviting Jack once, but the invitation was declined, Jack saying he did all his recreational running in the army and away from the family bull.

There were no memories of Jack on the trail with him, no funny times to reminisce about, but a lot of what if’s starting to form in his head; what if he tripped on a root and went over the side, what if a mountain lion attacked him, what if someone else was running the trail and decided Mac was a perfect target? They weren’t good thoughts, but Mac couldn’t stop thinking about them.

He slowed to a halt, catching his breath for a moment before turning around right there, barely even to the halfway point. He couldn’t run the trail— too many scenarios in his head.

There was no destination in mind as he left the trail. He didn’t want to go home, knowing that if he got back into bed then he probably wouldn’t get out of it for the rest of the day. Instead, he just ran; following sidewalks and streets, taking the path of least resistance. He wouldn’t be able to focus on anything concrete for a while.

Except Jack.

The major thing in his head, besides the fact that Jack was gone, was what would happen next. He’d been notified, being claimed as Jack’s own flesh and blood. What was he supposed to do? The military would have a funeral for him, bring his body home for his loved ones… if there was anything left. Would he get a formal invitation? A call? Would he be notified at all that it was happening, or was he supposed to call someone?

He would need to find his dress greens for the occasion. And would have to tell Bozer before the actual date. Trying to figure out how to do that made him sick.

His head was whirling with questions he didn’t have answers to as his feet were pounding on the pavement. He didn’t know how long he’d run before finally coming to a stop. His lungs stung has he hunched over to catch his breath, taking a moment before looking where he actually ended up—

His subconscious had sent him to Jack’s apartment. What a slap in the face that was.

He and Jack had talked about it, briefly.

“Watch my stuff okay? Water the plants, feed the fish—”

“You don’t have plants or fish.”

“Well maybe I’m puttin’ ideas in yer head on what I expect when I come back.”

Another lie.

What was Mac supposed to do? Jack set up an agreement with his landlord for monthly payments in place of his lease when he left. Telling the landlord Jack had died was one thing, but what was he supposed to with with all of Jack’s stuff? He didn’t want to put it in a storage facility. The break-in rates were only climbing. There was too much stuff for him to bring back to the house, not to mention having to tell Bozer why it was being moved there. He didn’t want to move anything. Cleaning out Jack’s apartment would further solidify the fact that he’s gone, one Mac still hasn’t fully accepted, but it wasn’t like he could just leave it there. Jack’s card on file would be declined eventually, then all his possessions would be out in the world, lost forever.

Mac acted on impulse before he really knew what he was doing. He went into the leasing office, and changed the card on file to his own. That was a fix to a problem that didn’t need fixing at the moment. And the lady there was understanding. Mac knew she’d seen him and Jack together on several occasions.

It was a mere few minutes before everything was done and he headed back out. He almost went in the check everything, but there was really no reason to disturb anything. It had to be kept just how Jack had left it.

The whole of everything took a few hours, and it was just beginning to turn into dusk when he finally made it back home. Bozer’s car wasn’t in the driveway, Mac must hav just beaten him home. He still didn’t know how to tell him. He ran scenarios through his head, remembering times where he had news broken to him. The only memorable time was when he was still enlisted, and he got pulled and given news his grandfather died. Bozer’s own mother was the one to call.

And Jack was the one to comfort him afterwards.

Every thing in Mac’s life up until that point seemed to have Jack in it one way or another. Up until that day in the DXS war room. Up until that day on the tarmac.

A stupid handshake as a fair well.

What he wouldn’t give if he could go back and give Jack a damn hug.

He needed a shower. Maybe something to eat, despite having no appetite. He didn’t even want to drink anything. He didn’t want to put effort into anything. All he wanted to do was crawl back into bed and stay under the covers for an unforeseeable amount of time.

Mac knew he was going through the stages of grief, stuck with a mix of denial and anger. And in his head, he found it reasonable. There was no way Jack died of a bomb because he didn’t take Mac along on the mission. That was like a bad storyline in a TV show. It fit their partnership too well. Jack getting caught in an explosion after leaving Mac behind would be like Mac getting shot the single time someone was able to overpower Jack. It was too scripted, too perfect to be a coincidence.

Mac begrudgingly pushed himself to get in the shower. Maybe it would help him think about how he was going to tell Bozer.

Something snapped as he got in. Whatever minuscule thread that was holding him together had snapped. Maybe it was his head telling him crying in the shower wouldn’t mean anything, would solidify the thought that Jack was actually gone, because there was no way to differentiate the tears from the water.

It felt like he was in there for so long with how tired he suddenly felt, but the water was still hot, and Bozer hadn’t come in to ask why he was taking so long. Letting the water run over his body was really all he could muster. He shut the water off, threw on an assumed clean outfit, and crawled back in bed. The tears hadn’t stopped though, even though the water in the shower had.

It didn’t mean anything. Didn’t mean he accepted Jack was dead.

Bozer was going to find him huddled in a blanket. He didn’t want to have the conversation.

***

Bozer wasn’t going to lie, that day had been a little bit stressful. He’d practically worked the whole day by himself when other people called out. It wasn’t the first time it happened, that day they just seemed to be slammed.

It wasn’t really the day at work though; he was worried about Mac. He couldn’t remember the last time he had food poisoning, especially from his own supposed food. It happened a few times when they were younger, Bozer still learning and experimenting with food, but it hadn’t happened at all since Mac had come back from the army. Maybe there was just something he missed while cleaning the fridge and Mac ate it.

Either way, he didn’t like Mac not feeling well. It was unlike him. There was no exact, quick fire way to cure food poisoning, just fluids and salt, so Bozer made a detour on the way home to pick up several different types of electrolytes for Mac to feel better.

It was times like those that made him wish Jack was there. Jack was always so good at just knowing what Mac needed. When they first came home, Bozer had been jealous. He’d known Mac for twelve years; they literally grew up with each other. Jack had only known him for two, and it seemed like he already knew everything there was to know about him. The few weeks after, Jack was always by Mac’s side, always seemingly knowing what he needed. And it was— frustrating. Bozer hadn’t seen his best friend in near five years. He hoped that’s what Mac still called him.

But as Bozer watched them, watched their dynamic, he understood there was nothing to be jealous about. That his and Mac’s friendship wasn’t in danger. Jack was someone else, someone who could help heal Mac in a way Bozer couldn’t. They had such a profound bond and Bozer didn’t want to get in the way with it. Their names even rhymed.

Mac and Jack.

Jack and Mac.

Two guys that formed a bond on the battlefield, literally putting their lives in each others hands. And quite literally a bond through blood when Jack gave Mac a transfusion.

Bozer could see how they interacted, even when they were in opposite rooms. Just knowing each other were close by changed the air around them.

Mac currently being sick was a time where Jack would do and be so much help, even if he just sat in the living room watching tv while Mac slept in his bedroom. There was no doubt in Bozer’s mind that if Jack was there, then Mac would be on his feet like nothing happened.

Unfortunately, Jack wasn’t there, so Bozer had to be his best to care for him, just like he had when they were kids.

The house was just as he left it when he headed to work that morning. Not exactly, it looked like Mac had gotten up and done some household chores, just the dishes at the very least. Hopefully that meant he was feeling better. What was more likely was Mac trying to act like he wasn’t sick, and ultimately making himself worse.

Bozer grabbed one bottle and put the rest in the fridge, telling himself he was going to spend an hour or so going through everything to make sure it was all still good, then headed to Mac’s room. A quick lite knock gave no answer, and part of Bozer hoped that meant Mac was gone somewhere, maybe feeling better. Upon entering, he was met with the same lump as that morning.

“Mac, you feeling any better?”

Mac had shifted, curling in further on himself without a word.

“Guess not… I got you some electrolyte drinks; brought you the lemon one since I know that’s your favorite. Gotta keep yourself hydrated so you can get this out of your system. Got you some of the other flavors too just in case. I’m gonna go through the fridge and freezer and make sure everything’s still good, then I’ll go ahead and make you a simple soup, maybe just broth since I know how much food poisoning really takes away your appetite.”

He expected something, a response of any sort, but Mac just stayed quiet, turned away and curled into a ball

“I’ll— just leave this here then.” He placed the drink on his nightstand. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything. Just yell.”

The whole thing felt wrong. Even when Mac was the most sick Bozer had ever seen, he still mustered up a reply, normally something snarky or a random fact. The way he was acting wasn’t like any other time he was sick. It was a lot closer to the time after he came home from being deployed.

No, that wasn’t quite right. Mac was a little more closed off then, yes, it was because of the situation, from needing to adjust back to civilian life.

Bozer had seen Mac in a near identical situation before, and it was after his father left. The self-doubt and bouts of depression that he went through when they were younger— they were bad, and Bozer hated having to watch Mac go through all the emotions.

In all honesty, Bozer was surprised it took that long for it to come up again. A year after Jack had left, and Mac had finally broken down. He could see their bond in how they interacted. Mac had a hole in his heart when his father left, and Jack just happened to be the perfect replacement. Jack leaving had opened that hole one more time, only bigger, and Bozer wasn’t sure anyone but Jack could fill it again.

So, Mac wasn’t sick, not in a physical way at least, but it was an unsaid agreement he and Bozer had, about not pushing the matter until Mac was ready to talk about it. So Bozer would be his caretaker, do his best to take care of him until he was ready to talk.

Bozer knew, realistically, all the food in the fridge and freezer were fine. They both had kept a good eye on what was getting closer to its expiration date, telling each other what had to be thrown out when ever something did have to be. There was no real point in going through everything, but he had to keep up the façade.

He started multitasking; cleaning the fridge while also making an easy soup. If nothing else, Mac could drink the broth and get some nutrients.

A thought popped into his head, one that was long off and probably would do no good to anyone except maybe himself. He took out his phone and called Jack’s number.

“Hey man, uh, how you doing? Uh… I hope your inbox isn’t full and you actually get this at some point. I had a whole thing that I wanted to say and I dunno why I actually expected you to be able to pick up the phone. I know you’re out there doing your missions and everything; saving the world one bullet at a time and everything. You like that? I think I want to use that as a tag line in my next movie. I dunno what it’s gonna be about yet but I wanna use it.

“Anyways, um, I guess— I miss you. It’s been too quiet around here since you’ve been gone. I miss trying out all those crazy recipes you use to always give me and when we tried them they were either really good, or really bad. But, I’m not calling about me.

“Mac’s— he’s not really doing too good. I mean he’s okay. I know how he used to always come home with some sort of injury from work, what with having to test things and sometimes they just go wrong— he’s okay. Physically, anyways. A day ago I found him losing everything in the bathroom, assumed it was just food poisoning. You know how he gets when he’s sick, playing it off as not as bad as it really is. But I got back today and, well, if it wasn’t for the sink being clean, I woulda assumed he was in bed all day. Honestly he might’ve been anyways, just tried to do something right after I left so it looked like he wasn’t.

“He’s— I know he won’t admit it, not really anyways, but he really misses you. And I think that since it’s been a year, everything sort of finally clicked. I’ll find him mumbling to himself, or even having a full blown conversation, and it honestly sounds like he’s trying to copy you. He’s been a lot more withdrawn and keeps to himself… it’s like we’re back to how we were when we were kids. I mean, when his dad left, it took a while for it to sink in, and Mac sort of just ignored everyone around him for a long time. He never said anything, and I know he won’t say anything now, but I know he’s depressed.

“When you both came back from being deployed, I could see Mac was different. He always had a sort of look in his eye, like— I dunno, he just always had a sad undertone or something— and it was gone when he came back. His dad left a big hole in his heart and you, intentionally or not, filled it. And then you leaving, it opened it back up again.

“I’m not trying to say it’s your fault, not at all. It’s his dad’s fault if anyone’s. I’m just saying— you need to come home. I miss you… and Mac needs you.”

There really wasn’t anything more he could do, no matter how hard he thought about it. Maybe do something crazy like track down where Jack was stationed and somehow gain access to give him a piece of his mind. But… it’s wasn’t like Jack could’ve declined. He was in reserves. It wasn’t like he chose to leave Mac. He didn’t have power one way or the other in the situation, as best to his knowledge at least. He did find it a little weird that Mac wasn’t in reserves, especially since the two of them were the best team ever. He assumed the army would’ve wanted both of them.

But then again, making up assumptions based on the things he was told, maybe Jack was the reason Mac wasn’t called back. He didn’t know how anything in the military worked, but Jack had apparently left with several favors under his belt.

Whatever the case was, Jack just needed to hurry and finish whatever he was doing, because as Bozer saw it, Mac was only going to get worse.

***

Mac had barely moved from his spot in his bed for four days, and Bozer didn’t know what else he could do. He’d taken days off to just stay in the house, to let Mac know that he wasn’t alone. The small portions of food he made and left on the nightstand went untouched, and any liquids barely decreased.

Bozer had stayed in the living room, tv playing some muted show while he looked up how to help someone experiencing depression on his phone. He didn’t know why he expected to find an instant depression be gone article anywhere. He felt like he was doing everything they said; gave him space, make him comfortable, let him know he was there— he did everything short of calling a therapist, which would’ve proven a little strange since Mac just had very bad food poisoning.

He knew Mac probably knew that Bozer wasn’t stupid enough to believe food poisoning. Maybe the first day or two, but seeing just how shut down Mac was, there had to be something else.

And Bozer didn’t know how to being up Jack, because he knew that was the problem, but it wasn’t something that he could fix.

His phone rang, a surprise when Patricia Thornton’s name popped up. Bozer knew she was Mac’s boss, only having her number for emergencies. He’d talked to her once, if saying hello in an introduction counted. It was during a company party when Mac first joined the think tank, and really the only words said were hello how are you?, before they’d gone to mingle with other people. So yes, having her call him was a bit of a surprise.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Bozer, this is Patricia Thornton. I’m Mac’s direct manager.”

“Oh, yeah, uh, hi.”

“I know this is a bit— unorthodox, but I’m wondering if you’ve had contact with him. He’s not been to work in four days and I haven’t been able to reach him on his number. I’m just wondering if everything’s okay.”

That did throw him for a bit of a loop. He assumed Mac would’ve called or sent an email, or something to tell his job he was sick and not get fired over it. Seemed like a miracle Mac wasn’t fired after the first day. Bozer knew if he no-called-no-showed to his job just once then he’d be booted.

“Yeah, I guess he couldn’t tell you. He’s just— got a really bad case of food poisoning right now. Can’t eat or really move without feeling like it’s gonna start something.”

The line was silent for a moment, Bozer thinking that maybe he said something wrong or the excuse was just unbelievable.

“He has food poisoning…?”

“Uh huh. I got home a few nights ago and he was just puking his guts up. I assumed he would’ve called to say he couldn’t make it in, but I guess since he’s really only been sleeping the past few days, there would’ve been no time.”

“I see.” Bozer heard something in her tone but couldn’t place it. “I suppose there’s nothing that can really be done about it. Thank you for the information. Please have him call me when he feels up to it.”

“Can do. Have a nice day.”

He got the feeling she didn’t believe him, which was fair. Mac didn’t have food poisoning, but he was still sick nonetheless. It didn’t matter if it was a physical sickness or not. Mac needed rest either way.

But he also need so much more than that. Mac wasn’t one to talk about his feelings, or any sort of emotions other than boredom. The depressed stage he was going through at that moment— unless Bozer pushed for it, it was going to just sit and fester into something worse, something he wouldn’t be able to come back from.

It was just like when they were kids.

Bozer knew about grief. He learned about it when his brother died. It was a dark time in his family. But it passed. Bozer learned to smile again, to laugh and be happy. He was able to talk to his parents and a therapist to help him get his life back on track.

He didn’t really learn about depression until he met Mac.

When he told him parents about him, about the boy that never seemed to smile and was always alone. They told him some people were just shy and didn’t know how to make friends, but Bozer insisted it was different, that Mac was just sad all the time. That’s when his parents explained it to him, that depression was an issue in the brain where it sort of stopped people from being able to be happy, and that there was no real way to fix it. There were things that could help and suppress it, but it would never go away.

Bozer had made it his mission to try and help Mac, because no one deserves to not be happy. And Bozer thought he had done it. Whenever they hung out, Mac always had a smile on his face.

Then Mac’s birthday came around, and that’s when Bozer truly understood what he was told before, that depression never really goes away. He still smiled, but they didn’t look sincere, and his laughs felt forced. And when Mac had been arranged to stay with the for an extended amount of time, it was like they were with a different person. He barely ventured from his room, didn’t want to play or hang out at all, hardly touched food, didn’t even want to play the new game Bozer got for them.

“Depression is an illness of the mind, honey. Someone can be born with it, or it can develop in their life after facing hardships. The best thing you can do for someone in that circumstance is treat like anyone else, and don’t push them or force answers for anything. And if you don’t know what you can do, just being there for them helps. If they want to talk, then you listen.”

And that’s what he was trying to do, but four days with barely any food was getting into dangerous territory. Bozer would give it to tomorrow before he started to gently coax Mac into telling him what was wrong.

That’s what he wanted to do at least, before a phone call happened while he was making dinner. It was from the landline, a third number that went on very form for everything, and it wasn’t often that it rang.

“Hello?”

“Hello, may I speak to Angus Macgyver, please?”

Another call for Mac, without Bozer getting a call on his cell first.

“He’s— indisposed at the moment. Can I take a message?”

“Yes. I’m calling to inform him for the funeral.”

Funeral?

“Um, for who?”

“For— Sergeant Jack Dalton.”

Oh.

Oh no.

Bozer took down the information, surprisingly calm throughout. When the call was over, he leaned against the wall, sliding down until he was flush with the floor. Everything had clicked. He could now talk to Mac about it. Only—

He didn’t know how to approach.

Mac and Jack were inseparable. The running joke was for Jack to just completely move in to the guest room with how much time he spent there, and he nearly did. There was a good amount of clothes that were his that were in the dresser, and he had a shelf in the fridge. They’d gone through literal war together; Bozer was reminded of that a few times a month, with Mac waking from nightmares, and hearing Jack quietly enter his room.

He knew how Mac was feeling, but he didn’t know.

Jack had filled the void James had left behind. He was there for Mac at a moment’s notice. Bozer had seen how upset Mac was when Jack first left, and he thought it was understandable, because the hole in his heart was wide open again.

But, since Jack had apparently died in the field, there was no more hole. There was no void. There was nothing anything. Mac’s world had been shattered into microscopic pieces, and Bozer didn’t know if he had the skills to try and put it back together.

But he had to try.

He picked himself off the floor and took a deep breath, heading to Mac’s room.

There was no change as he knocked on the door and let himself in; maybe the water on the nightstand was drank a little, but Mac was still curled in a blanket, caring not for anything around him.

Bozer sat on the edge of the bed without saying anything. He didn’t know how to start.

“Your boss called me, wondering where you were. You— hadn’t told her anything and was out for four days. I told her you were sick. She’d like you to call her when you’re feeling better.”

Feeling better. Mac wouldn’t be feeling better for a long time.

“And— I just got off the phone with someone else… about a plan for a funeral.”

That got Mac’s attention. A quick jolt, like a flinch. He curled in more on himself.

“I… I’m so sorry, Mac. I know what he meant to you.”

Meant. It sounded so wrong.

Bozer sat there in silence. Mac had been like that for four days. He’d known for four days. Bozer wasn’t angry or upset about just finding out about it, rather he was sad that Mac had been suffering by himself. Four days of wallowing in a sorrow so deep that he couldn’t move— Bozer knew exactly what he was going though.

He could feel and hear shifting behind him. He glanced back and saw Mac sitting upright, comforter still wrapped around him.

“When’s the funeral?”

Mac sounded broken. His voice was quiet and raw, and his face red and blotchy, his eyes especially. It had been such a long time since Bozer had seen him cry.

“Six days.” He fully turned to face him. Mac’s features looked sunken. “Mac…”

Mac shook his head, almost willing the conversation to be over already. Bozer leaned over and pulled him into the tightest hug he could. The shaking was almost instant.

He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, but it was long enough for Mac to actually fall asleep.

He couldn’t leave him, and it wasn’t the fact that Mac was on him. Bozer maneuvered the both of them so they were laying on the bed, Mac still latched on to Bozer’s chest. He was grateful when he felt his phone in his pocket, knowing that he’d need to call out of work. Rather than actually call, he sent multiple managers messages saying that he’d need to use all the leave he had, both paid and not, for personal reasons. He didn’t bother waiting for a reply, or if it would actually get approved. If he got fired for staying home and comforting a friend, then so be it.

The only thing that mattered then was being there for Mac, and getting through everything together.

***

Mac didn’t remember the last few days, if it had even been days. It could’ve been weeks for all he knew. Time just kept going on. He vaguely recalled Bozer coming in to check on him a few times. He barely touched any food he was brought, hardly touched the drinks either. He just wasn’t hungry. The thought of food made him sick, and the lack of it— Mac wasn’t a stranger to fasting, or being starved, so the first pain of hunger hadn’t really phased him.

Then Bozer came in and just sat on the bed. It wasn’t like it was out of the ordinary, especially in the current state of everything. But then he mentioned a call, and everything shattered. All the denial he’d been holding, the false reality he’d been crafting in his head— that whoever had told him Jack had died had made a mistake and a different soldier had been killed— was replaced by the true reality that was there. That Jack had actually been killed in action.

That he wasn’t coming back.

Then Bozer just held him while he cried.

He woke up at some point, during the very early hours of the morning to Bozer sleeping right next to him, more so Mac had been sleeping on his arm all night and was effectively curled up against his chest. It was immensely comforting just knowing someone was in the room with him. Bozer was still in yesterday’s clothes, meaning he never left when he first came in, probably hadn’t eaten either.

He needed to get up. He couldn’t let Bozer forgo his health. He needed to get over everything and…

“Hey.” Bozer startled him slightly, not even realizing he had woken up.

Mac didn’t look at him. The thought of doing anything went right out of his head, and the silence that hung between them after was like they were still sleeping.

“He wouldn’t want this for you.”

That made his breathing hitch.

“He wouldn’t like seeing you like this.”

Bozer’s words weren’t accusatory, or pitiful, or loud. They were said like they were such a simple fact.

“He would do everything in his power to help you through this. I know I’m not him, but I’m going to do the best that I can. I know better than anyone right now how much you’re hurting… and keeping it bottled up isn’t going to help.”

And just like that, the tears started again. Not loud or guttural, just silent tracks going down his face. Bozer wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close.

“You can talk to me, man. I know it hurts, and I know it won’t ever go away, but it does get easier to deal with.”

He knew Bozer was right. The pain would eventually fade. It wasn’t the first time he’d dealt with it. The major difference was with all the other times, Jack was the one he talked to.

“He… called me.” Mac wasn’t sure how long it took to speak, or if he spoke at all. He couldn’t get that moment out of his head though.

I’ve missed you, Mac. I can only hope you can say the same thing about me.

“Yeah? Were you able to talk about anything?”

If Mac could go back in time, he would’ve picked up the phone.

“I didn’t pick up.”

If he could go back in time, he would’ve given Jack a damn hug.

“Why not?”

If he could go back in time, he would’ve gone with.

“I was mad at him.”

If he could go back in time, he would’ve stopped Jack from going.

“What about?”

If he could go back in time, he would’ve stopped the two of them from ever being paired in the sandbox—

“He promised he’d never leave.”

—so he wouldn’t have to live through the horrid reality that was his life.

“Well, sometimes— we can’t control what happens. I mean, he was called back to service. That’s not really something that can be blown off without repercussions.”

Mac sucked in a shaky breath. He didn’t like lying to Bozer. Before joining DXS, he was an open book. There were unintentional white lies every now and again, but he’d never straight up lie to Bozer’s face about anything, and it felt just plain wrong when he had to tell him he got a job at a think tank. He didn’t want to lie to him about Jack. 

“I should’ve gone with him. He would still be alive if I went with him.”

“Mac, you don’t know that.”

“He was— it was an IED. If I was there then I could’ve prevented it and he would still be alive. It’s my fault for not being there with him to watch his back.”

“No.” Bozer hugged him tighter. “You can’t put this on you. What happened was in no way your fault.”

“I should’ve pushed to go with.”

“Mac, even if you’d’ve gone with, there’s no guarantee… you could be the one that died, or both of you.”

“That would be better than this.”

Mac regretted the words as soon as they exited his mouth. He didn’t feel like that, did he…? The thought of dying wasn’t really new to him, as sad as that was. That was just the first time he said it out loud. He recalled times when they were both younger and just talked about life; Bozer having plans to be a big time director, but— Mac never really had plans. He never dreamed big or thought what his life would be like in the future.

He never thought his life would have a future.

There was a single time in the sandbox where Mac accidentally let it slip, when he and Jack were arguing about keeping him safe.

“What the fuck have I told you ‘bout runnin’ off to where I can’t see ya? You want a bullet in yet head? Got a fuckin’ death wish?”

“Not like you could do anything if I did.”

It was tense between them for a long while after that. After a few days, Jack had managed to corner him.

“You… dude, I need you to talk to me if you feel like that, hell, talk to anyone if you feel like that. Doin’ what we do fucks with yer head, and that fucks with us tryin’ to do our job. Don’t say anythin’ ‘bout me tryin’ to keep my perfect streak goin’. Hell with that. Yer life is more important than any stupid statistic. Believe it or not, I kinda like and enjoy havin’ you around, so if there’s somethin’ I can do to help with yer inner turmoil, tell me. I know I can jabber on and on ‘bout pretty much anythin’, but I do know when to shut up and listen.”

He started noticing Jack just— being more. Whenever he was in a bad mood, Jack would trail on about something nonsensical, or when he went for a run to blow off steam, Jack would be right beside him, or when he just overall didn’t feel right, Jack would sit there and place a comforting hand on the back of his neck.

Jack was always there to stave off the feeling. Now that he was gone, it had come back in full force.

“You can’t say that, man.” Bozer’s voice cracked. “I know, I know it hurts, but you can’t think like that. I swear to you, it’s gonna hurt for a long time, but it will get better.”

He’d been hearing that line his entire life. When his mom died. When his dad left. When his grandfather died. Even his classmates at MIT when his grades slipped. But every instance, it just sent him further into a pit in which he couldn’t get out of. He knew he hit the bottom when he joined the army, subconsciously hoping that pit would become his grave. He was so tired of trying to get out of it every single day.

Then a rope was thrown over the side.

Mac didn’t believe what it was, ignored it for a very long time because he didn’t trust it. Then one day it disappeared, slowly pulled back up, never to be seen again. Until— it was around his torso, in the way of a lasso, pulling him up. Of course there were snags and times he resisted, but he eventually got pulled to the top.

And Jack was standing there. Pulling the rope up like Mac weighed nothing at all.

It stayed around his chest for a while, keeping him close when he got near the pit’s edge, always pulling him back before getting dragged back in. Before he knew it, he’d walked away from it, side by side with Jack. The rope had come off, sitting attached to Jack’s belt. When Mac did venture closer to the pit, or step and get stuck in smaller ones, the thing that pulled him out was Jack’s hand, clasped in his.

Then Jack had to leave.

Mac got stuck in a small hole, one he could easily get out of himself, and did eventually, and kept walking along.

Then Jack died.

And a hole into the earth opened up, and he fell right into it.

“When?”

Mac had been waiting years. Years for it to get better, but day after day it just seemed to get worse and worse, and he was tired of waiting.

“I can’t tell you that. It’s different for everyone, on how they process grief. I mean… for me— with Josh… it took years for me to be able to genuinely smile again, and even then, I still had nightmares and thought about him every day. I still think about him, and it hurts every time, but it’s not holding me back anymore. And when it gets to the point where I just can’t seem to do or get anything done. I remember all the good times we had, and everyone who’s around me now that can help me through everything. You were always there for me when I got like that, and I need you to know that I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”

Mac loved Bozer. His best friend since fifth grade. They shared so many memories together, good and bad, and it sent Mac even deeper into the hole. He felt like he hadn’t appreciated Bozer’s friendship. Ever since Jack came into the picture, a lot of his free time was spent hanging out with him, not even counting the times they had to crash at Jack’s place while they healed from injuries. Every waking moment, it was never just the two of them. It had always been Mac and Bozer, then it became Mac and Jack, and Bozer. Mac felt like a terrible person for subconsciously putting Bozer on the back burner in those last two years.

And Bozer was doing everything in his power to help Mac get through that situation.

He didn’t deserve a friend like that.

***

The funeral was— nice. Closed casket. Mac knew the horrors of the aftermath of IEDs.

Bozer had helped him find his dress uniform, helped clean him up, helped get him dressed, and took care of everything that needed to be done before they actually left.

Mac recognized a few people at the ceremony; a few guys from their outfit in the sandbox that Jack had apparently kept in touch with. There were a few DXS people there to pay respects, Patty and Nikki being among them. There were a few Mac made assumptions of based off Jack’s details, mainly his previous Delta unit members, and someone from the Marines. Then there was just everyone else; random people from the military he didn’t recognize, maybe some agents from his CIA days.

It was a pleasant service. It was almost as if everyone had something they wanted to say about him. Mac wanted to. He wanted people to know the difference Jack made in his life, how he turned it around and set it on a bright path instead of the increasingly darkening one Mac had been on. But he couldn’t bring himself to step up. He knew he wouldn’t be able to say more than a few words without breaking down in front of everyone.

The reception had been held in a large ballroom with everyone mingling and sharing their favorite stories and interactions. Surprisingly, a number of people had come up to Mac, offering their condolences. The first few were from the sandbox, so they saw the relationship turn into what it had been, they knew what Jack was to him. That was understandable. Then it was the other agents from DXS and CIA, saying they knew what it was like to lose a partner.

Patty had been one of them.

“I know what it’s like to lose someone Mac. We have counselors if you so choose, and I’ll take the time to tell you that as of now, you’re on leave. Take as much time as you need.”

Then two guys, one with various scratches on his face and another with his arm in a cast. They didn’t tell him outright, but Mac could tell they were apart of the team Jack took with him.

“You look exactly how he described you. Baby-faced and a not so scrawny beanpole body. He wouldn’t shut up about you, you know.”

“Yeah. Every time we got a second to breathe, he was going on about you making things out of nothing and how you could bend the laws of science to your will. Always going on about how my boy can do this and by boy can do that. Glad we were finally able to meet you, even if not under the best circumstance.”

A shaky breath exited Mac’s lips.

The marine was the next to approach.

“He was a great guy. One of the best I had the opportunity to work with. We met when my SEAL team had gotten stuck and needed a hand to get out. Dalton just appeared outta nowhere with his team; extracted us like it was the simplest thing in the world and just went on with the day. We kept in touch after that, getting each other out of messes throughout the years. We called each other every now and then just to give updates on life, and I could tell he was in a much better place when he started talking about you. You meant a lot to him, and he said leaving you was the most difficult decision he ever made. I want you to know that if you need anything, or if you want or need to get away for a while, give me a call. I’d be happy to host you.”

Mac couldn’t take it anymore. Jack had apparently told everyone about him, how amazing he apparently was.

He had to leave the building, taking up a bench outside and quietly tried to not lose himself in the depth of his own sorrow and guilt.

He didn’t know how long he sat alone until another body had sat beside him, and it was honestly surprising that it was Nikki.

“I didn’t know him as well or as long as you, but I could see you guys had a strong bond. You two were like a textbook case of a perfect team where everything went right even if it went wrong.”

And Mac couldn’t believe the words that left her lips.

“I think you should’ve gone with on the mission. The chance of survival would’ve been higher.”

It felt like she was getting payback for Mac gently rejecting her advances. Like a harpoon had gone straight through his chest.

He needed to leave. Immediately.

He didn’t know where Bozer was. Couldn’t bring himself to care or go search for him since he was the one that drove. He just needed to get away from there. Away from Nikki and the thought she just solidified in his head.

He didn’t say anything to her as he got up, and didn’t listen to anything she said afterword. He just started walking— away from the venue, through the parking lot, and just on to the street. There was no destination in mind, not even having a real idea of where he was or how to get home. All he knew was he was going to walk until he felt numb, until his feet hurt in those uncomfortable shoes, until he could feel something again that wasn’t sorrow or guilt.

Mac could feel eyes on him as he walked. What a spectacle he must have been, walking down the street in a full army dress uniform. He wished he could disappear.

His phone was vibrating in his pocket, most likely Bozer seeing where he was. He knew he wouldn’t be able to answer. He didn’t trust his voice to keep steady. He would apologize for running, but he couldn’t face anyone at that moment.

It felt like hours that he walked— and it might’ve been— until the streets started looking familiar, and fortunately, or not, it wasn’t close to his house, but Jack’s condo.

Jack’s condo.

His name was still on the lease even though Mac was the one that was paying for it. Even though he had just come from Jack’s funeral. Even though Jack was dead. Mac wasn’t going to bring anything up. If there was a problem in the future, the landlady had his number.

And he had a key to the door.

He finally pulled his phone out when he closed Jack’s door behind him, noting the dozens of texts and calls from Bozer. He didn’t listen or look at any of them, just sent back one saying he went on a walk. Bozer immediately sent one back.

“Are you okay?”

Mac couldn’t answer, because he honestly didn’t know. He couldn’t make sense of most of his thoughts, and didn’t like the ones he did. They were saying things to him that he didn’t want, and Nikki’s words were echoing around in his head. They were solidifying everything. All the thoughts he hated.

He found himself in front of the medicine cabinet. A ghost of himself staring back from the mirror; slightly sunk features, pale complexion, exhaustion all over. That’s how everyone saw him, saw how everything outwardly effected him.

Mac saw so much more beneath everything.

He didn’t want to see anything anymore.

He opened up the medicine cabinet, knowing Jack always kept a stash of leftover prescription painkillers for when Mac refused to go into med for something.

There was an envelope sitting on one of the shelves. Mac’s name written on it. His stomach sank.

His hands were shaking as he took it, slowly bringing himself to actually open and look at the contents.

“Hey bud.”

He could hear Jack’s voice as he read, his back going to the wall and sliding down it.

“I am so sorry. If you have the unfortunate chance of reading this, I died on the mission, and you’re not doing too great. I need you to understand how loved you are, and that what you’re thinking of doing— it ain’t the way. You have your whole life ahead of you, and this is a permanent solution to something that will pass. I know you’re in pain. I know how much it hurts. I need you to know I would never want this for you.

“However my death happened, I know you’d blame yourself for it, insisting that things would’ve been different if I took you along. The reality of it is, it wouldn’t be. The only difference is you’d be there to see it, and I’d never wish you to witness something like that. And on a chance, especially on this mission, I’d have to watch you die, and just like you’re feeling right now, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.

“Whatever happened, it was not your fault. Nothing could have changed the outcome. So please, whatever you’re planning on doing, I need you to stop. You are so loved, by everyone around you, and I loved you to the very end.”

Mac was crying.

I’ve missed you, Mac. I can only hope you can say the same about me.

Mac’s chest hurt.

I loved you to the very end.

He didn’t know how long he sat on the bathroom floor, letter crumpling in his hand and tears leaving tracks down his face, but it had gotten significantly dark before he snapped back into his unfortunate reality.

He exited the bathroom, peering at the main room before him. There were so many days and nights that he remembered in those walls— from when Jack asked him to come see it with him before buying, to the last time he had to camp out there to hide an injury from Bozer. The couch had been slept on so many times but still looked brand new, and the fridge still held barely enough food to feed one person.

“You do know there’s a grocery store like down the street right? It’s like you just moved in; no food anywhere, only take out containers.”

“Hey I got alotta canned goods if I need. Not like I’m here all the time. Stuff in the fridge goes bad too often so I’d rather not buy stuff I know I ain’t gonna be able to eat.”

Then there was the bed. Looked hardly used, still unmade since the last time Jack had slept in it. Mac remembered arguing over it, that just because he was injured didn’t mean he got to automatically take it, but it always ended with Jack taking up his own couch. Or on the nights of particularly bad missions, they’d both take up a side, able to sleep knowing the other was there.

Mac hadn’t gotten a good night sleep since Jack had first left, let alone gotten any sleep since he’d been killed.

“I loved you to the very end.”

Jack knew what to say even if he wasn’t there.

Mac had to try. Jack never gave up on him, so he couldn’t give up on himself.

He sat on the couch, pulling out his phone to see the greatly increased number of messages and calls from Bozer. He didn’t deserve what Mac was putting him through. He couldn’t bring himself to call him yet, so he merely sent a message saying he went for a walk, that he was okay, and he’d be home tomorrow.

Bozer sent him a message immediately, but Mac didn’t respond. An overwhelming exhaustion took hold of him. He needed to sleep.

A glance at the bedroom made him turn to the couch. He couldn’t sleep in the bed. It was too empty, held too many memories he didn’t want to face. He took a seat on the couch just like he’d done so many times before. It felt so normal, so at home that just for a few seconds, it was like he was just waiting for Jack to sling a blanket around his shoulders and throw a pillow at his head.

Neither happened, nor did Mac attempt to get them himself. He listed to his side until he was fully laying down. There were so many times where he passed out on that couch, so many times he’d nursed injuries. It was a safe place where nothing would go wrong. He closed his eyes, still holding on to a single frayed strand that everything was just a dream, and when he woke up, Jack would be there like every other time.

***

Worried was a very mild way of putting how Bozer felt.

Mac hadn’t cried when they were at the funeral. A number of people there hadn’t. Bozer wasn’t one of them. He was happy he got to hear all the things Jack had done for people, both in the army and just through life. It had been a beautiful service, and everyone he could hear at the reception laughing with each other and just overall having a good time. He knew it was right; Jack wouldn’t have wanted people to be sad about his passing, willing them to instead celebrate the life he’d lived.

Bozer was a bit awed to see all the people coming up to Mac. Some of them greeted him like old friends, and others just as strangers would in such circumstances. He knew what that was like, remembered adults coming up to him during Josh’s funeral and saying how sorry they were.

He remembered trying to stay strong and not cry, just like what Mac was doing, but knew he’d eventually break.

He’d lost track of Mac after someone spoke with him, himself getting stopped by Patty.

“I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how extremely difficult this is going to be for him. Even though they were different departments, they always found a way to be with each other. I already told him, but I’m going to tell you as well because I believe you’re going to be more emotionally stable in the long run; Mac is on official leave. He doesn’t need to come in, really shouldn’t, until he’s ready. And if he needs anything, please don’t either of you hesitate to call.”

It was a very decent gesture. Bozer had had bosses previously where they required someone to come in the next day even if they had a family member die.

He’d gone outside after a few more minutes, thinking Mac just needed to get some air and was tired of talking to people, but after not seeing him, he got worried. He spotted Nikki on a nearby bench and asked if she saw him.

“He was here for a little bit, but then took off towards the parking lot. I assume he just went home.”

Mac couldn’t have gone home. Bozer was the one that drove, and they weren’t really close to the house in the sense of he could’ve just walked. He texted Mac, hoping to get any sort of reply just saying where he was, then again after a few minutes, then again after that. There was no reply, for hours. No return calls, no texts, hell, Bozer would’ve settled for smoke signals.

He drove around the area looking for any sign of Mac, still calling and texting, but not seeing any sign or getting any reply. He had half a mind to call the police to ask for help in searching. That wouldn’t be good for Mac’s current mental state though, Bozer knew that. He knew Mac would feel humiliated over the whole thing and that would only push him to distance himself for everyone that cared about him.

He drove to Jack’s apartment, a quick thought of what to do about it passing his mind, hoping Mac had somehow made it there to try and just— cope. It wouldn’t have been the first time Mac had gone there to just be. It happened a few times a month after Jack had first left, slowing down to just once to check on things and make sure everything was still there.

Mac wasn’t there though. That’s when Bozer truly started to panic.

He kept driving around the area, even going back to the funeral reception and asking everyone who was still there if they’d seen him, but there was nothing. All the calls and texts went unanswered. He finally went back to the house. Bozer had been driving around for a few hours, so maybe on an off chance, Mac had actually made it back home, but going in and calling his name only yielded silence.

He didn’t know what else to do. He had no idea where Mac was, only barely understanding his mental state, thinking back to his own. Bozer had family to help get him through his tough time. Mac had—

No one.

That wasn’t right. Mac had him. Mac could talk to him about anything, wished he would. Mac was just so— alone in the world that he thought he could never share anything with anyone. Jack was the one that changed all that, the one that changed Mac and showed him people cared in a way Bozer could never. Jack was the one Mac needed.

But Jack couldn’t be there anymore. So Bozer had to step up and be there for him.

It felt like it had been days before Mac finally replied to him.

“Sorry, took a walk.”

And he was grateful for it, honestly, but not giving any more insight to where he was or what he was feeling was terrifying.

Bozer forced himself to eat when it got late, and did his best to try and sleep. There’d been no more communication from Mac since that text, and it was very late into the night, mere hours from morning, and sleep was evading him, being replaced with worry.

He’d just barely gotten to the point of falling asleep in the early morning light when he heard the front door open, the familiar soft steps of Mac’s shoes.

Bozer was out of bed in an instant, rushing to the front door and stopping in the living to see Mac standing there, no longer in the uniform he was in the previous day, but another outfit that he could only guess where he got it from.

They stood in silence for seconds just looking at each other before Bozer rushed over and pulled Mac into a hug.

“Don’t do that to me.” His voice was above a whisper. “I was so scared, man. Where were you?”

“Sorry.” Mac’s own voice was barely there. “I… sorry.”

“Are you okay?”

“Took a walk. Needed to clear my head.”

Bozer pulled away from the hug slightly, instead taking Mac’s face in his hands. “I was so worried. You just— you were gone and you didn’t answer me at all… I thought you might’ve done something.”

Bozer almost didn’t hear Mac’s reply, and part of him wished he hadn’t.

“Almost did.”

Bozer’s heart skipped a beat, nearly stopped.

“Mac…”

“I was just… walking around, for hours, and I wound up at Jack’s apartment. I… after what Nikki said, I couldn’t take it. I was going to… but— Jack left me a note. He…” Mac’s voice hitched, tears welled in his eyes. “He’s really gone, isn’t he?”

It needed to happen. Something no one ever wanted to face or accept. It broke Bozer’s heart to watch as Mac had to finally accept what happened.

“Yeah… he’s gone, Mac. I’m so sorry.”

Mac have the slightest of nods before his head went to rest on Bozer’s shoulder, the raw pain he felt leaking out through every labored breath and quiet sob.

“I’m so sorry, Mac. I know… I’m so sorry.”

They slowly sank to the ground and just sat on the living room floor, the house echoing with Mac’s ragged crying.

Seeing Mac break down like that was almost— alarming. Bozer didn’t remember the last time he saw Mac cry, probably when they were kids, but nothing like that. Nothing could even come close to the heart wrenching sounds coming from him, even though he was nearly silent. The shaking of his shoulders said more than words could at the moment.

Bozer didn’t know how long they stayed there; long enough for Mac’s crying to tapper off in to only hitched breathing, and for light to start shining in through the cracks in the curtains. He knew neither of them had slept or really eaten anything, knew that he should’ve done something to start the process of one of them, but he couldn’t break from Mac, not until he was ready.

***

Mac was trying to get back to normal. He tried getting out of bed each morning, eat regular meals, take care of his body. But it was just so hard every day.

He didn’t know how long he and Bozer sat on the floor in the living room when he first got home from Jack’s place. It felt like hours, and in all honesty it could’ve been. When Mac finally broke from the hug, Bozer kept saying how sorry he was and how much he loved Mac, leading him to his bedroom so he could sleep. He didn’t though, not really. He’d slept a little at Jack’s and walked back to the house. They’d both woken completely when it was actually time to sleep.

“Hey, how’re you doing?”

He needed to sleep more, wanted to.

“My manager called to see when I could come back. I just told him I’ll come back when I come back.”

He was being a burden on Bozer.

“You should go back. I’ll be okay.”

“Mac—”

“I’m… I’m trying to get back into normalcy. You being here isn’t going to help. Not that— not that I don’t appreciate it, but…”

Bozer sat silent for a moment. “I still have PTO I can go through.”

“You don’t need to use it on me. Save it for when you want an actual vacation. I’ll… I’ll be okay.”

“I’ll— use two more days, and I want you to promise me you’ll call if you need anything.”

For two more days, the both of them more or less lazed around the house, getting through everything together.

It had been different when Bozer had left for work. Bozer being there had given Mac reason to get up and out of bed. He was still up with Bozer and had breakfast with him, but once he left, Mac just crawled back in bed. He had managed to feed himself whenever his body demanded it, and showered when he started to smell himself.

It felt like there was a weight on him, something chained that was restricting him.

He’d called Patty after a few days of Bozer being at work, relaying his situation, that he wanted to go back to work if only to give himself reason to get out of bed, and only doing lab work for the time being. Patty told him if he wanted to come back then he could, and if he wanted to stay out of the field completely then it could be arranged. Mac didn’t tell her about Nikki. That would have to be done in person.

Time went on, as it did. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months. Mac very slowly started to get into a regular, healthy routine. He was able to get up without feeing as he was carrying bricks, was able to form coherent thoughts without them straying, didn’t have to force himself to choke back a meal, started talking to people again.

Of course there were days where everything was wrong and bad and horrible, but they didn’t completely overshadow everything else in his life anymore. Those were the days where he was quieter, but still talked, got up later but still got up.

Jack was still an extremely sore subject. People at work made comments, just observing how different it was, or giving Mac condolences. He stayed away from Nikki as best he could, which wasn’t really all that difficult since they worked in different areas. Mac still hadn’t told Patty what she said. Thinking about it was still too much for him to handle.

On the days that were difficult, Mac found himself staring at his phone, still a slight hint of hope Jack would call to check on him, and everything would turn out alright.he always knew how to make everything better.

And Mac did something he didn’t know he was capable of. He called him.

He was scared someone would pick up. He didn’t even know what he wanted to say. Sorry I was trying to reach my dead friend?

It hadn’t rung at all, so at least that meant it was still attached to Jack’s phone and no one else’s. Hearing Jack’s voice for his messages made his heart jump slightly.

“If you’re hearin’ this, the voice of Jack Wyatt Dalton, then that means my brainiac hasn’t taken and obliterates my phone for one of his projects. Leave a message before you can’t.”

Mac had been there when Jack recorded it, remembered how he did it several times to get the tone just right.

It was a few seconds before he realized he was being recorded.

“I miss you.”

He didn’t even know what else he could say. He wanted to say what he was thinking, but that was the only thing.

“I… I was mad when you left. I even went to Patty to try to get the information I could to follow. It— didn’t go well.”

It had become a regular thing for him to do, and he called Jack’s phone a couple of times a month.

“It was really hard for a while. I found the note you left me. Not sure why I’m surprised you’re looking out for me, even now.”

It was a few times a day for a while, if just to hear Jack’s voice. Then it was just to tall about his day.

“Patty pretty much gave me full access to anything I want in the lab. There’s things there that I haven’t seen at all. I think you would’ve had a good time helping with everything.”

But it always came down to one thing.

“I miss you, Jack. I’m… everything is getting— easier, but it’ll never be the same.”

The same message, over and over again.

“I wish you didn’t go.”

“I wish you let me come with.”

“I need you to come back.”

“I miss you.”

It had gone on for about a year, weekly calls to a number that would never have someone pick up again. Mac noted that Patty never asked for reasons when he needed to leave early, basically telling him he had his own schedule for whenever he needed or wanted to leave.

Then there was when she called him when it was nearing the year anniversary, and she sounded apologetic in what she was asking.

“This is the only shot we have for this. If I could send anyone else I would, but based on our intel, you’re the only one that can pull this off.”

And after he got off the phone with her, he called Jack.

“Patty— needs me to go to Italy. Uh, the info we have says the weapon’s owner is having a party and this is going to be the only chance we have to get to it before it goes underground again. The security system is supposed to be state of the art and only someone like me would be able to get past it. It’ll… it’ll be my first time out in the field since— you know. Nikki’s going with as comms but other than that, it’s just me… I wish you were here.”

Mac would’ve been lying if he said he wasn’t nervous. It was his first time out in the field since Jack died. There was no one to watch his back if things went wrong, and for the majority of the mission, it was like he didn’t need anyone to. Everything was going smoothly; a single hiccup with getting through a biometric scanner being the only thing that proved difficult, and it barely took Mac two minutes to bypass it.

The alarm that sounded had startled him. There’d been no indication of anything, nothing that Nikki could see that would’ve given her insight to tell Mac something was wrong. Mac had to fight his way through the building and out the doors, running to the docks and commandeering a getaway boat. He’d been relaying everything back to Nikki, which had been heard by Thornton, and Mac was naïve enough to think it was over and he was home free. He just needed to meet back up with Nikki then get to exfil and it would be over.

Being met with Nikki at gunpoint at the comm van—

He wished Jack was there.

Everything went in slow motion. Mac should’ve remembered his training for situations like that. Leave it to him to get like that on his return mission out in the field.

It was true Mac wasn’t fond of Nikki, what with her constant trying to get in a relationship with him, and what she said to him at Jack’s funeral, but— she didn’t deserve to die. Mac ultimately ended up handing the bio weapon back over, ridiculous hope that everything would go smoothly and he and Nikki would be able to head to exfil.

Maybe he was too naïve for that job, maybe he lost his touch since he’d been out of the field so long. Maybe he forgot in those few minutes that he didn’t have any backup.

It had honestly confused and surprised him when Nikki got shot. It took him a moment to realize what happened, before running to the side of the bridge to see— he wasn’t really sure. A body? Maybe someone the shot missed and she would be swimming to the side? Or maybe it had just been a graze and—

The pain in his chest stopped all other thought, and the sudden falling sensation and extreme cold took hold of everything else.

Mac was scared. He would admit that. It wasn’t the first time he’d been shot, but he didn’t have anyone else there. No backup. No someone off in the distance.

No Jack to make sure he made it out alright.

Jack had always said they were both playing with borrowed time. Mac’s had finally run out.

In the moment of pure terror though, there was a sense of release, of satisfaction.

At least he’d be able to see Jack one more time.

***

Dying was a process.

It reminded Mac of when he got really sick when he was younger; feeling both hot and cold, mind beyond muddled, random aches over his body. He wondered if it would’ve been different if he was taken out another way, making a sort of one and done situation where one second he was living, and the next he was just dead. Being shot and feeling himself die wasn’t something he’s recommend.

In the sporadic seconds where his mind was clear, he knew Patty would send people to his last known location, maybe even go herself. Logically, he knew he had to fight to stay alive, fight to get out of that lake and on to dry land, because that’s what Jack would’ve wanted for him; to stay alive at any cost.

But Mac was tired, not just from the mission, not just from being shot, but just— overall. He’d tried to do something about it a year ago, ultimately stopping because he found Jack’s letter. That time was different though. Mac hadn’t done that to himself. Mac had been on a mission and gotten shot in the chest, dangerously close to his heart. Surely Jack would’ve understood if he just… stopped.

He wondered what would happen after, where he would go, if anywhere. He wasn’t a religious person. He couldn’t prove if heaven or hell existed, or any sort of afterlife. He just assumed everything would go dark and he’d be put into a hole in the ground. That would be it. He’d cease to exist; the only thing left would be memories people had.

So to say he was surprised when there was a bright light was— accurate.

He could barely hear anything, just a dull, muffled buzz in his ears. There were various shapes blocking out the bright light. Maybe that was just part of being dead. All the times he heard adults talking about heaven and hell when he was younger— maybe he was being fought over, for if he should actually go up or down. He didn’t think he’d done anything horrendous to send him to hell, maybe it was just part of the whole process.

He didn’t know how long he would be like that, stuck in limbo. Maybe it was just time to reflect on his life, mainly the ending of it. Not just getting shot, that seemed inevitable. That wasn’t really when Mac even thought his life ended. No, his life ended a little over two years ago, when Jack left.

He didn’t few like he harbored any more ill feelings from it. He came to accept what Jack was doing was overall a good thing, and he had time to adjust to Jack actually dying. He just went on with his life, as best he could given the circumstances.

The moment he knew he was still upset about was on the tarmac. With the handshake. The stupid, fucking, informal handshake. And it wasn’t on Jack. That was all Mac’s fault. Jack knew Mac wasn’t a handsy guy, so of course he wouldn’t want to overstep a boundary on their apparent last meeting. Mac should’ve ignored the handshake and just given him a damn hug. He could count on one hand how many hugs they had, and every time, Mac stayed a second longer.

Subconsciously, he knew if he had hugged Jack that time, he wouldn’t have let go.

But, Jack was dead, and apparently, so was he. The illogical hope of seeing Jack in the afterlife was higher than what he knew possible.

And then it happened.

Mac started hearing a voice— soft, strong, so so familiar. It was speaking quietly, telling him to wake up, apologizing, even just the noise of crying at some points. It was a voice that Mac needed to see.

There was a single day where his eyes had adjusted.

He saw Jack.

So he really was dead. That kind of sucked. He still had a lot of things he wanted to do.

But Jack was just there, hovering over him with an expression he couldn’t read. He wasn’t sure of his own expression, or emotion for that matter, but he apparently had to say something to make sure what he was seeing was real.

“Hey.”

At least, he thought he said something. Everything was still so muddled that he didn’t know if he was speaking out loud or not. There was a shift in Jack’s face though, and that made Mac believe he’d actually said it verbally. That, and the fact he got a response.

“Hey kiddo.”

He blinked, and in the second that his eyes were shut then opened again, Jack had disappeared, the space occupied nothing. He could feel a ring around his nose and mouth that he didn’t before, and a few seconds of beeping made its way to his ears.

Oh. He wasn’t dead. He was in a hospital. Because he got shot. That meant it couldn’t have been Jack at his bedside. He must have been hallucinating. Because Jack was dead. Or Mac had died for a few minutes, and he did actually see Jack.

Either way. It was nice to see him again.

It happened two more times, seeing Jack hovering over him— but he looked different. There was something about his eyes that didn’t seem like him. That was Mac’s own fault; hallucinations probably never were exactly perfect. He enjoyed it though— a coping mechanism his mind came up with to help him through the trauma.

He didn’t know how long he was in the hospital before being able to actually wake up and be somewhat lucid. He could hear nurses and orderlies speaking in his room, both to and about him. He understood a few things, mainly that he was healing nicely, albeit slower than what was expected. He knew the reason for it, the same one on Mac’s mind was making him think Jack was sitting at his bedside every other day.

It had become more frequent though; every time he was able to open his eyes and focus them, Jack was sitting there just like he always had in the past. And they were becoming more real.

“You remember when— we were in the sandbox, and ya got stung by that scorpion? And that other time ya got bit by a snake and truly lived up to our callsign? Watchin’ you in med those times are a hundred percent preferable to this.”

It was things they’d talked about before, and that was normal to hallucinate about. Memories playing through his head and just making slightly different scenarios to fit the current situation.

“Mama still wants us to visit. I know with all the shit goin’ on that it ain’t at the top of the list, but I think it’d help with— us, mainly with me I guess, in helpin’ explain what the hell’s goin’ on.”

But then, Hallucination Jack started talking about things he couldn’t possibly know.

“I swear to you that I’ll explain everythin’. Kovacs— the whole thing was a fuckin’ shit show. There were times where I nearly called to get yer help on somethin’, but I couldn’t take the risk of them findin’ you…”

Hallucination Jack couldn’t have known things Mac hadn’t known.

“I listened to yer voicemails. Nearly every day, just to keep myself goin’; remind myself what I was fightin’ for. I… gettin’ Bozer’s sayin’ how you weren’t doin’ good, then gettin’ yers sayin’ you found the letter— I never wanted it to get this far. I never wanted you to find it.”

Unless…

“I know yer hopped up on alotta drugs right now. Honestly can’t wait for you to finally come outta it. I remember— or really mama likes to remind me— when I broke my arm in school I had to have surgery to set it, and I apparently came out singin’ my lungs out to Johnny Cash. Love the man but never really actually listened to him, but I apparently knew all the lyrics to whatever song I was singin’.”

That was something different. A fact about Jack he never new before.

“I mean honestly, I’m thinkin’ of you doin’ that when you wake up— maybe just rattlin’ off some equations or random facts you got stored up there. Knowin’ you though, you’d probably come out singin’ like Mozart or Beethoven.”

That was so Jack-like.

“Not sing. No lyrics.”

Mac didn’t recognize his own voice was he spoke. All gravely and barely there. Maybe he hadn’t even spoke in the first place, maybe he’d dreamed the whole thing, because of Jack had actually been sitting there, even though that was impossible, he would’ve thrown back his own quip about technicalities.”

“No, no, yer right. Ain’t no lyrics in them.”

No. That wasn’t possible.

“You’d hum them instead.”

Mac turned his head to where Jack’s distinctive voice was coming from and fought with every ounce of energy he had to opened and focus his eyes. He had to be hallucination. It had to be the drugs. Because—

Jack was sitting there, looking a bit older and worn and tired.

It had to be Mac’s head thinking what Jack would look like from the past three years. That’s all it was.

But, hallucinations couldn’t hold his hand. Hallucinations didn’t have a smell. Hallucinations couldn’t smile at him with the same gentleness and fondness Jack showed him nearly every day.

Hallucinations couldn’t make Mac feel like that.

“Think you could get away with makin’ up yer own lyrics to classical songs though. It just somethin’ yer good at.”

Jack could though.

“Don’t try and fight the meds. You go ahead and conk right back out. I know… I know my words probably don’t hold the same value they once did, and rightfully so, but I’m here for you. I swear on anythin’ and everythin’ that I ain’t goin’ anywhere without you anymore.”

Mac wanted to believe it.

He focused on Jack’s face. It was the same, for the most part; grayer hair, more wrinkles, same small, genuine smile, same eyes that always pinpointed what the problem was.

Eye, not eyes. The right eye was pale, glossed over, and there was a scar going from the nose right over it.

But, it was still Jack. It had to be. The probability of it was low… but not zero.

Mac never saw his body. Never even saw a body.

There was a chance—

He took a deep breath and let his eyes close. He didn’t know if he had actually gone out or not, but when he opened them again, Jack was still there.

And again.

And again.

Every time Mac opened his eyes from what seemed like an unlimited sleep, Jack was sitting right by his bed.

Maybe he could start believing it.

“Promise?”

Jack’s eyes went up and turns to him. “Promise what, Mac?”

“Still… here.”

Jack scooted his chair closer to Mac’s bedside, a hand going to Mac’s wrist in such a familiar motion. That was a Jack thing; feeling for his pulse. Not that he needed to. There was a heart monitor in the same room as them.

“I swear on my daddy’s grave, and on my mama’s life, that I’ll stay here with you.”

Maybe it was his head and the drugs effecting it. Maybe it was a coping mechanism that was just starting to work. Maybe Mac himself had actually been dead that whole time—

Mac had fallen into a pit in the center of the earth when he was told Jack died, and he never escaped it. Instead, he got used to it, made it his home. In that moment, a one-off gesture that no one would pay attention to—

A rope had put itself around Mac’s waist, and for the first time in years, he felt a tug.