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Seeing how people reacted to Mac was quickly becoming one of Jack’s favorite things. It varied a bit— how young he looked in comparison to how old he actually was, how he could fix literally anything with scraps and near trash, the blatant disrespect he gave to authority without realizing it then paying the price, how stupid he was despite how smart he was. Jack could say he knew how they all felt, since he himself had gone through the same various stages of shock and awe. The one thing they were all hung up on, and Jack himself was still getting used to, was how Mac disarmed IEDs.
Jack’s favorite story to tell newbies was the first time he saw Mac disarm the IED under the humvee.
“I’m tellin’ ya, don’t know what the hell was goin’ through his head. Disarmin’ the thing with the battery from our radio and a piece of gum I had? Shit man, I don’t even know what I was thinkin’. Still can’t make any sense of it. I mean Ive started carryin’ weird things in my vest just to offer if he needs somethin’. And don’t get me started on how often we’ve had to request replacement radios or parts of gear.”
He told new guys how on their first meeting, Mac had managed to incapacitate him, then had done the same to others during hand to hand training, which had honestly been a sight to see.
Mac was smart, strong, and strategic, basically everything wanted in a soldier. But he was also a pacifist who refused to wield a weapon in the field, which meant Jack was his only means of defense if anything went wrong. That was alright though; it was literally Jack’s job to keep Mac safe and that’s what he was going to do no matter the circumstances.
Going on training runs with newbies was something both Mac and Jack enjoyed. Simulations in practice towns once or twice had been getting scarce on account of better and more in depth training in the states, but there were still off chances of fresh guys being called on as if it was a real thing, if just to further observe their skills if nothing else.
It was always treated like a regular outing, maybe a little less serious. It was more of one last training session, with the senior most soldiers give advice on what they thought the most effective and efficient way to deal with whatever the situation was. The techs obviously watched as the newer guys assessed the situation, giving them pointers on area and the obvious spots snipers could be, and the overwatches were questioning their new guys on what they should be doing before, during, and after their tech was disarming.
Jack liked telling them of the time Mac ran off.
“Was a lesson for both of us, guess for me more than him. Can’t tell ya how annoyed I was at first; bein’ in that place for an hour and he ain’t find anythin’, then he goes and runs off to check somewhere else. I had to run after him and find a spot before he got ambushed by four guys, and, not to toot my own horn, but I managed to take them all out with only two bullets. Let him have it right there and back at base for doin’ somethin’ so stupid, then had someone slap sense into me cuz I didn’t listen to him and pretty much stopped doin’ my job. So, really, yer tech knows how to do their job, and you need to trust what they’re tellin’ ya.”
It was always entertaining to see how everyone reacted, usually divided on who he was telling; watches usually siding with him, and EODs siding with Mac. There were some that were swapped, and a fair few that called both of them idiots and bad at communication, and it was a miracle they hadn’t been killed yet.
During the whole exercise, Jack kept his head swiveling, something the new guys hadn’t gotten time to form a habit of. A lot of them were taking eyes on your EOD a little too seriously— only watching them overall.
“Hey.” Jack went up to one of the guys and elbowed him in the side. He gestured to his own with two fingers then pointed them out to the surrounding area. “Keepin’ an eye on yer EOD is all good, but it ain’t gonna do anythin’ if you ain’t watchin’ the area. Yer EOD is focused on findin’ an IED, so you gotta be focused on findin’ people that are lookin’ to stop them. Keepin’ yer eye solidly on them stops you from lookin’ down alleyways and on rooftops.”
The guy he was talking to nodded, then immediately started swiveling his head— and missed when Mac took his EOD into a building a little ways away. Jack had been watching the whole thing of course, and had to hold back a laugh then the other guy noticed the sudden disappearance.
“That’s what gets you into situations like that.” He swung an arm over his shoulders and led him to the building, where Mac and the other EOD were. “It’ll be easier when actually out in the field since you’ll have your radios and throat mics, but there’s still the possibility of a magic trick happening.”
He patted him on the back, and he and his EOD continued down the street.
“Love pulling that trick, don’t you?” Mac asked.
“Hey, gotta make sure they know what they’re in for. If they’re not expectin’ everythin’ then it’s gonna happen.” Jack said, looking towards all the other groups.
“Expect the unexpected, yeah, but we can’t really do that during training. Everything’s scripted, and even when it’s not, the guys don’t really from what they’re told.”
“Think we’re the ones to truly do that. Everyone else is too scared to get in trouble from goin’ off script. I’m startin’ to think we might got some special privilege or somethin’. I mean we fuck up plenty and ain’t more than a slap on the wrist, maybe a timeout, but then we’re bein’ told to get back out there and do what we do.”
“What do you think we’d have to do to actually get in trouble?”
“Probably nothin’ short of you blowin’ up the base, and even then it’s a stretch. Why? You plannin’ somethin’?”
“Not planning. We’ve just been through and done so much that would easily get others thrown in the hole for a few days. Can’t tell if it’s blatant favoritism or that we’ve just been given up on for following rules. I mean, remember when I got heat stroke and you punched out a superior officer because of it? That would’ve easily gotten someone else court marshaled, or jail time. You just got thrown in the hole for like a week.”
“Hey that guy deserved it. Total dick, and we had people as witnesses to prove it. But honestly I think it’s cuz they know we can do what others can’t. I mean hell, I’ve told yer gum story like a dozens times this week and everyone is kinda dumbstruck over it. Ain’t no other guy on base that’d be able to disarm things like you do, which is also probably why they’re havin’ you here, helpin’ the new guys.”
The two of them walked down the street, eyes on the new guys around them. The town they were using had been cleared out a long time ago, being turned into strictly a military training facility. Army personnel were there all the time, turning away any native that tried to reclaim it.
The exercise they were currently doing was supposed to help with familiarizing the soldiers with the generalized layout of the towns and cities they’d venture to. That was to say, they weren’t cookie cutters. Not every town had the exact same layout, but comparing all the maps they had of every place they’d been, they were all similar enough to memorize a path that would lead from one end to the other with hardly any changes. Buildings missing or added was really the biggest issue, and it was hardly an issue at all.
“Having me here might be a backwards step.” Mac said. “If guys tried to do what I do and they don’t have the same understanding, they could make the whole situation worse, even get themselves and others killed because of it.”
“Mac, I mean this in the nicest way possible; the stuff you do is so whacky that no one could do what you do, even if you were right there explainin’ it to them.” Jack clapped him on the shoulder. “So, how’d’ya think they’re gonna react when the guys actually start shootin’ at them?”
A snort. “Probably freak and scatter. Some will probably freeze. Wouldn’t put it past some to actually get hit, and that would suck. The paint they use takes forever to wash out.”
“Bring back memories?”
“I can’t wear those pants anymore because I get yelled at for them being dirty. Perfectly good except for a blotch on the back of one of the thighs that I can’t get out no matter what. Who do you think is going to be the bigger targets this time?”
“Well if the bad guys follow directions then we’d be invisible, but, all considerin’, I think we’re pretty fair game.”
“How many guys did you get last time? Five? What are the chances they’re the same guys?”
“Normally if they don’t get hit then they get picked for the next round. So probably not, but everyone is friends with everyone so we might have a bounty on our heads.”
“You have a bounty. I’m an unwilling participant.”
It wasn’t long before a few guys started shouting and running for cover. Jack and Mac both hopped into action, sprinting to the nearest building where another team had taken refuge. Both had their guns drawn but didn’t look like they were going to make a break for it in the least.
“How you doin’ there, soldiers?” Jack said, back against the wall and looking through a window. “You got a battle plan?”
“Uh, no, sir. They caught us by surprise.” One of them answered.
“That’s the point; keep ya on yer toes. Always gotta expect the unexpected out here. Now take a breath, calm yer nerves, survey yer surroundings, and think up a plan on how to get us outta here.”
Jack had used those lines dozens of times before, mostly on newer guys doing training. Mac has had those words said to him on a few occasions, mainly when they were given special instructions on outings. It always upped the already immense pressure he felt, but Jack speaking to him in the impossibly calm voice in those situations always seemed to make it go away.
“Will it hurt?”
Mac looked to the other guy next to him. “Will what hurt?”
“Getting shot with these guns.”
Mac snorted. “Yeah, hurts like hell. Nothing close to the real thing though; the paint is really hard to get out if you let it dry. Honestly if you get hit anywhere, try to make it not your back. I know you can’t really control it, but back hurts the most. All the guys shooting at us have free range got anywhere except face, and if you look outside, they have face shields for if and when they get hit. I’d expect a lot of the guys out here are going to be bruised for a while. Not a lot make it through unscathed.”
The guy had turned a shade of white, and Mac realized he said too much.
“You still don’t know when to lie ‘bout these things, do ya?” Jack clapped him on the shoulder with a laugh. “You don’t even remember the last time you go hit. I take out everyone before they even have a chance to get a look at ya.”
“Which is why I’m fairly certain I’m going to be a main target today. All the guys out there definitely have a vendetta against you.”
“Yeah yeah, whatever.” Jack looked to the first guy. “Got yer plan? Alright. Well follow yer lead. And just so everyone’s aware, their shots will consist of yellow paint, and ours are blue, just like our arm bands. You see any other colors then somethin’ hinky’s goin’ on, and seein’ red is a show stopper. Call for a halt with the phrase and then for a medic.”
“Why no red?”
“Couple years back we were just usin’ whatever colors we had and, I don’t know the exact details, someone got injured by somethin’ in the town and didn’t realize he was bleedin’ pretty bad cuz he got hit with red paint and he was already hurtin’ from it. Think he actually tripped and fell on a broken pot or somethin’.”
“Has there ever been an actual attack while doing this?”
“Now I’m just thinkin’ yer stallin’ cuz ya don’t wanna get got.”
Mac snorted. He remembered how nervous he was when first doing an outdoor, infield training. He hadn’t gotten shot as a result of the actual exercise, but when everything was done and getting packed away, a few guns had fallen, one going off and getting him twice in the back without his vest on. That was probably the closest time he got to actually being shot with the pain that quite literally exploded on his back. He was sore for days after and the bruising— Jack said he looked like a kid got ahold of some finger-paints and just went to town.
“I’ll head out first.” He said, crouching close to the doorway. “Cross the street to the alley and you two can try to see where the shots are coming from.”
“Mac’ll show ya how it’s done, then you two can have a go at it, then we can have at yer plan.” Jack said, smacking Mac’s shoulder. “Best you guys don’t actually follow his every move, might be worse off if ya did.”
Mac sent Jack a flat stare, opting to not give him an actual answer and instead rushing out the door. He ran out, heading to another building diagonal from the previous. He heard a shot, then one more just after it, and a yell following. There was always a comedic value of someone cursing up a storm in the distance, though that sting of words sounded like it was coming from above him, so more than likely that Jack had taken a shot at someone and hit the target. And the very distinct fuck you, Dalton that came from the roof proved his theory.
He didn’t bother waiting for the other EOD to make his way over. He went to check the other rooms he could directly see. It wasn’t often Mac got to sweep a place on his own. Either the target area was outside and Jack had a bird’s eye view of every angle, or it was inside and Jack was always in front and practically swept the place on his own. It was— refreshing to be able to do it himself, if only for an exercise. Because despite him being just as, if not more, trained in hand-to-hand combat as every other person on base, a lot of the other guys still underestimated his skills, which he always used to his advantage.
That instance was no different.
Mac turned a corner and was met with a gun aimed at his chest. It had been startling more than anything.
“Hey Macgyver. Fancy seeing you here.”
Mac raised his hands just past his chest. “Don’t suppose that if I say I surrender that you won’t shoot?”
“Sorry, you know the rules. I’ll let you pick though since I know some places are more tolerable than others.”
“Can I make a suggestion? You can still shoot but I take off my vest and we prop it against the wall and you just shoot that? I’ll put it back after and we just— act like it was on the whole time? You know how bad those things hurt, especially at a close range like this.”
He thought for a second, and that was when Mac knew he’d won that fight before it even happened.
“You know what? Sure, but you gotta give a good performance on your way out or we’ll both be in deep shit.”
“You got it.”
The whole scene that played out immediately after was like something out of a cheesy action movie.
Mac had begun to undo his vest, putting up a significant act of struggling to get one piece of it undone. “Sorry, I kinda had to jerry-rig it a while ago because I used part of it to disarm an IED and I didn’t want to get yelled at or do paperwork to get a new one.”
The guy actually took a few steps forward in an attempt to help Mac with everything, which actually surprised him and worked in his favor, because once he was in arm’s reach, Mac swept his leg at the other man’s feet and made him stumble and practically fall face first to the ground. Mac then quickly and swiftly disarmed him, emptying out his clip and ammo from the gun.
Mac stood over him as he was on his back on the ground. “Sorry.”
The guy just groaned. “No one’s going to let me live this down. Where’s Dalton so he can shoot me and make it look like I didn’t stand a chance?”
It was just a bit insulting, but Mac felt like he understood what he was thinking. “You stay there and I’ll let you pick where Jack gets you.”
He gave a thumbs up and stayed down. Maybe they could do the best trick for him instead. Mac held the gun in front of him and pointed up as he turned to see where the others were at. Surely they’d made it to his side already. He turned a corner to head back to the front of the building to look for them, and felt the shots before he actually heard them.
They were localized on his lower left side, three in quick succession of each other, each feeling like a punch. In all fairness, he’d only swept one room, so it was totally logical that someone had heard what happened and gotten the jump on him.
Or, that’s what should’ve happened. When he turned to see who had shot him, he was surprised to see it was the other EOD he had been with earlier and not someone from the other team. That was new.
And it hurt, obviously. His brain had given him a full five seconds to prepare before the pain actually registered. Mac doubled over and groaned. Those things hurt a lot more than what he remembered, probably due to the proximity. Either way, he was out.
“Oh fuck. Dude you scared the shit outta me and I just reacted! And you have a gun! You’re like the guy for not even touching a gun!”
That rumor had gotten a little out of hand. Just because he didn’t like using them didn’t mean he didn’t know how. He could take it apart and put it back together just as well as the next guy, and he kept up on the maintenance of it.
“Ha! Did you get—” the guy who had originally planned to down Mac appeared beside him, looking to taunt the situation, only to be shot once in the chest by the EOD. “Ow! Dude what the fuck? You trigger happy or something?”
“What’s all the commotion in here?” Jack called as he and the other overwatch entered.
“Just a case of friendly fire, no big deal.”
“Yer not on our team, Freeman.”
“No, but trigger-happy over there just shot your EOD. Point blank fucking hurts.”
Jack looked to Mac, who looked like he was trying to straighten himself up. He didn’t quite succeed; still partly bent over his his hands resting on his knees, but up enough to see the splotch of blue paint on his clothes.
“Damn… you okay Mac?” A shaky thumbs up was what he received. Jack turned to the other EOD. “You tryin’ to defect on us?”
“He startled me! I just reacted and—”
“And if this was a real situation with live ammunitions then Mac would be a hell of a lot worse.”
“I’m okay.” Mac managed, finally straightening up all the way and taking a breath. “That hurts way more than I remember.”
“Different guns than last time; better, packs more of a punch.” Freeman said. “And I can’t even use it anymore due to someone being trigger happy.”
“We’re supposed to be shooting at you anyways!”
“Yeah well maybe I’m pissed off on his behalf because he’s too nice to say anything.” He thumbed at Mac.
“Alright alright, calm down.” Jack said. “You two okay? Gettin’ hit in such close range hurts more like a bitch than anythin’ else.” The both nodded and Jack turned. “Turner, put yer goddamn safety on before you shoot out someone’s eye.”
Turner huffed, defeated.
Jack turned back to Mac and Freeman. “As much as it sucks, and as funny of a story it’ll be, both of you are out. I’m sure command will be havin’ a field day with it, ‘specially you, Mac.”
“Yeah, yeah. We’re all going to get yelled at.” Mac said, turning to Freeman and holding out his gun. “If we go now, then we can start cleaning this off quicker before it has a chance to dry.”
“Yeah, you’re right about that.” He took the gun and slipped his armband off. He walked to the door and whistled, signaling anyone that heard to look in that direction. “Let’s hope we don’t have long to wait for transport.”
Mac also slipped off his armband and walked towards the door. He turned back to the other three still there. “See you guys back at base.” He headed out and joined Freeman’s side, who had been holding the gun above his head as a universal sign for being out of the exercise, and they both started walking.
“So, you wanna make up a story about what happened so we both don’t look like idiots?” Freeman said.
“I think our first plan would’ve worked fine.” Mac answered. “You can tell people you just got sniped. I mean you have the right colors on you. I don’t think I can make anything up for this.”
“What if we tell people there was a scuffle and I got you first then I got sniped in an attempt to save your life?”
“I don’t think that would explain how my team color got on my vest.”
“I used your knife.”
“What knife?”
Freeman reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a paintbrush. “Knife.”
Mac snorted. “I hate to tell you but we didn’t get those. Apparently only you guys did.”
“Eh, worth a shot.”
***
“They had paintbrushes.” Jack said as he and Mac headed to mess. “Can you believe that? They were given faux knifes for close quarter combat and we just got guns. Unfair but also realistic since you don’t know what the enemy could be packin’.”
“Freeman told me as we were leaving. He was surprised we didn’t get anything like that; had a whole story on how to explain how we got hit instead of what actually happened.”
“What’d you end up sayin’?”
“What actually happened.” They went through the line and got their food before heading to a table. Mac winced as he sat. “Friendly fire. I couldn’t really say anything else.”
Jack gestured with his chin. “Got you good, huh?”
“Been a few hours and honestly it feels like it’s hurting more. There’s still only welts but there’s definitely some purple starting to set in. Not looking forward to this particular road to recovery.”
“Coulda been worse. I heard one guy got it in the neck and he ain’t allowed to talk for days. You go see doc about it?”
“Yeah. They made everyone who got hit. Got a few painkillers, and I’m allotted a few ice packs if the pain becomes unbearable, but it’s not like it’s debilitating or anything. I’m pretty sure I’ve had worse when I was still in school.”
“That ain’t somethin’ to brag about.” Jack frowned. “Either way, you take it easy when we’re not out. You get super grouchy when yer hurt and it would benefit everyone if we stopped that before it started.”
“I will. How did the end go? I mean, obviously you made it out.”
“Pretty much only me. I kept givin’ Turner and Garcia tips and advice, and they were doin’ a good job ‘bout followin’ them, then I slipped off and basically let them do their own thing while just shadowin’. They made it all the way to the end with minimal complications, ‘cept they got surrounded just before leavin’ and got stabbed a couple of times. They took a few guys down before ultimately submittin’. Jaron was pleased with their run and said he planned the ambush last second to catch them off guard. I took my gun and band off cuz I didn’t wanna run the same fate, and I could see guys lookin’ dejected at it since they wanted a chance to get me.”
“You didn’t get in trouble for that?”
Jack shrugged. “Tried to call me out, but I said my tech was done in by friendly fire and I wasn’t technically apart of the trainin’ anyway, and the one that did ya in was the one that was just congratulated on everythin’. Think they just let the matter go.”
“You have a knack for superiors letting you off with a slap on the wrist.”
“It’s that old Dalton charm workin’ it’s magic.”
Mac rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure.”
***
The next few days had been miserable for Mac. They’d only had to go out once, but they’d been apart of a group tasked with mindless heavy labor for the hell of it. They’d been moving boxes from one place to another, then told they didn’t need to be moved, in turn having to move them back. Everyone had been complaining because it really was stupid mindless work that meant nothing, but Mac wasn’t included in it.
Every time he had to bend over or squat for something, it agitated his side where he got hit. And when he had to climb into his bunk, that hurt, and when he moved and turned in his sleep, that really hurt. The second night when he twisted, he had to bite his tongue so to not awaken any of the other guys. He couldn’t even bear to sleep on his left side anymore, not that he had really gotten much sleep anyways.
“Dude you look like shit.”
Mac was so tired that he didn’t have the strength to roll his eyes. “Thanks man, real nice of you to point it out.”
“I’m just sayin’.” Jack held his hands up. “I know you haven’t been sleepin’. I feel you tossin’ and turnin’ all night. Yer side hurtin’ that much?”
“I guess. As long as I stay still then it’s fine. Even breathing’s starting to hurt.”
“You know that ain’t good, right? And I know you haven’t went to see doc to follow it up.”
“I haven’t had time. We’ve been busy with everything, and by the time we’re done, I’m exhausted and it’s late. Believe it or not I was actually going to go today since this is our only day off.”
“Do I need to get you a sign that hangs above you or somethin’ that reminds you not to forgo yer health? Doesn’t matter if we’re workin’. If yer hurt then you need to get checked out, no matter what. You finish yer food then we’re headed straight to med.”
“Can I say I’m not hungry and would rather go right now?”
Jack pushed his tray away. “Okay, let’s go.”
The two of them headed out of the mess tent and made their way to med.
“You been takin’ what Doc gave you for the pain, right? You ain’t out or anythin’?”
“I’ve been downing them when I got the chance, sometimes doubling up because it hurt so bad. It didn’t really help though. I mean it took away the immediate pain but it always felt like there was like a pulling or something pulsating that never really went away. Twisting during the night just made it worse.”
When they turned a blind corner, Mac bounced off something, or rather someone, and that sent a new spike of pain through his core.
“Oh shit, sorry man. Wasn’t watching where I was going.”
A quick apology and he had continued on his way. Mac however was nearly doubled over.
“Mac—”
He started coughing at a sudden lack of oxygen, letting Jack do whatever he was doing, mainly dragging him the rest of the way to med. His eyes were watery from both the pain and how hard he was coughing, and the fact that he couldn’t catch his breath anymore. Things were starting to click, and when he tasted a metallic substance in his mouth and both he and Jack saw blood coming up with each cough, it seemed stupid that neither of them considered it in the first place.
“Come on, come on. Doc’ll get ya right as rain. Doc!”
They’d indeed reached the med tent and Mac had been hauled inside, Jack taking a lot of his weight but doing it carefully as to not aggravate his side even more than it was. In hindsight, he should’ve gone to Roe right after they completed the training. There was a medic there and he was the one that gave Mac the initial look over, but— it wasn’t exactly thorough. And Mac had given him the benefit of the doubt; unless someone was bleeding, they really only needed an icepack.
“Not a day goes by where I wonder when you’re going to bust in to my med tent and yell at me.” Doc Roe said, ushering for Jack. “What’d you got?”
“Ain’t a hundred percent sure but I think Mac’s got a collapsed lung.” Jack pulled Mac along to an empty cot and gingerly let him sit.
“Coughing and blood could indicate that.” He quickly put on a pair of gloves and held a stethoscope to Mac’s chest. “How’d it happen?”
“Someone bumped into him just now. We were comin’ to see ya cuz his side wouldn’t stop hurtin’ from gettin’ nailed from the trainin’. I’m thinkin’ that with how close and how fast those shots were that he fractured a rib or somethin’, and whoever just ran into him was what actually caused it to snap and puncture his lung.”
“Not exactly what I had in mind but seems right enough. That and coupled with how short his breath is— lay him down.” He grabbed a large syringe and called for someone. “His chest is filling with air. We need to decompress it. Macgyver, I don’t think I need to tell you this is gonna hurt.”
Mac shut his eyes, the grip he had on Jack getting exponentially tighter. Everything seemed to happen all at once; his coughing stopped, his breath was lost, the weird pressure on and in his chest was slowly disappearing, replaced with the pain of literally being stabbed with a needle. Then the exhaustion set in, not the regular kind he’d been feeling as of late, but one that felt like he shouldn’t give in.
But— no one told him not to…
***
Waking up was horrible. Nothing felt right. Everything hurt. There were things strapped on him and things poking into him. He didn’t understand how he managed to fall asleep in the first place. He felt sick.
There were noises around him, ultimately meaning people were around him so someone could tell him what happened. He remembered hearing Jack and Roe talking about broken ribs, mentally kicking himself for not realizing they had been fractured in the first place. Things after that were fuzzy, but, he was still at base and not hauled off to a hospital somewhere, so it must not have been that serious.
“Look who’s finally up.” That was Martin. Mac recognized his voice despite not fully being able to see him. “Gotta say, you gave everyone a scare; most excitement we’ve had all month. Roe, he’s awake.”
There was shuffling before the distinct voice of Doc Roe replaced Martin.
“You know how to give us a run for our money, Macgyver.” Mac’s eyelids were pulled open one by one and a light shined into them. “Passed out for twenty-two hours and nearly stopping breathing— shit, we thought you just died. Luckily, despite having a lung not working, we got you breathing again. Any questions?”
Mac barely understood what he was told, mainly because he didn’t feel fully conscious yet. He had plenty of questions, but could only muster the energy for one.
“Why d’you talk so fast?”
“I can speak quick with short words or slow with long words. Everyone seems to understand collapsed lung more than pneumothorax. I know you’re still very much out of it for multiple reasons, so I’m going to leave you in Martin’s very capable hands and check back when you’re a little more coherent.”
“I understand pneumothorax.”
“Yeah I know you do. Just take it easy for a little while longer. I’ll still be here when you wake up.”
Roe treating the whole thing so nonchalantly made Mac think it was all blown out of proportion. His lung collapsed? No big deal. Broken rib? Eh, whatever. And honestly the laid back attitude and zero panic made it easier for Mac to follow the order of going back to sleep. His eyes had been half closed anyways, so it wasn’t like it was an issue to close them all the way and fall asleep.
At least, he thought that was what he did. The second his eyes closed, they were opening again, and the same sensations hounded him. It could’ve been mere seconds his eyes had been closed. He didn’t feel any more rested compared to the first time. That could still be the first time. The only major different was instead of Martin’s voice being the first he heard, it was Jack’s.
“Well hey there sleepy head. Have a nice nap?”
He shifted a bit and groaned. “Don’t talk to me.”
“Wow, harsh, and to think I’m riskin’ gettin’ a talkin’ to just by bein’ here. I should have myself admitted so I don’t have to sneak to the bunks, or have Doc right me a hall pass.” Jack rolled his eyes. “How ya feelin?”
“Like there’s everything and nothing on my chest.”
“Yeah, broken ribs and collapsed lung will do that to ya; chest shouldn’t be constricted for yer lung but yer rib needs to be kept in place. They had a hell of a time figurin’ out how to treat for both.”
“What time is it?”
“After light’s out, couple hours since you woke up the first time apparently. And before ya ask, yer gonna be outta the field for a long time.”
At that moment, Mac didn’t care. Every movement that required any type of core strength felt like he was being shocked.
“Doc’s gonna keep you here for yer lung. Ain’t had a problem since ya first came in, so he has high hopes yer lung already mostly fixed itself and the puncture was more so just a scratch; said it takes three or four days to heal completely, but honestly could be longer, all considerin’. Yer ribs are a different story; six weeks at least— no heavy liftin’, no climbin’, no twistin’, no sittin’ for extended periods. Yer gonna hate these next few weeks cuz you basically just gotta lay flat and not move.”
“Sounds great.” Mac huffed. “If it could stop the stabbing pain in my chest then I’m all for it.”
“Well, in case you haven’t noticed, you do have a literal tube stickin’ you in the chest right now.”
Mac blinked at him before actually looking down at himself. His lower torso had been wrapped to keep his ribs in place, and there were several electrodes on his chest attached to machines. Jack was right though, there was indeed a long hollow needle sticking out of his chest.
“Pretty sure this is some form of medieval torture.” He groaned, letting his head drop back to his pillow. “How long’s that supposed to stay there?”
Jack shrugged. “Til yer chest stops swellin’ like a balloon I guess. And I know what’s gonna happen next, and the answer is yer gonna be in here for a while.”
Mac took a deep breath, chest twitching and aching. “Does Turner know?”
“Actually, I don’t know. You wanna see him?”
“I don’t want him to wallow in guilt over thinking this was his fault.”
“Mac, in case you forgot, this is quite literally his fault. Remember, twitchy trigger finger? Arm’s length away shots? I mean I get you, but…”
“Blame the army for different guns, or me for not having it actually checked out—”
“Or the guy that bumped into you on yer way here?” Jack raised a brow.
“I just don’t want him to feel bad about me being in here. So just— if you see him, say I’m okay, just bored out of my mind.”
Jack snorted. “I’ll bring you some stuff to keep yerself occupied while yer stuck— right after I get Turner and whoever bumped you to come and see what they did.”
“Really not necessary.”
“Make them feel super guilty ‘bout it.”
“Jack.”