#we get him trying to kill bozer right off the bat

[ariminiria]

I feel like Riley got skipped over a bit when the writers were dealing out Murdoc interactions

[bloodfromthethorn]

Suddenly Worse

For the first time in what has to have been months, Mac and Jack are both walking away from a mission unharmed. That's got to be worth celebrating.

Part ten of the July of Whump 2021 prompt challenge.

Also on AO3. 

..

“Jack, I’m fine. Stop fussing.”

“Hey, I’m not the one who thought it would be a good idea to fall out of a moving car. You do stupid shit like that, you’re gonna have to put up with me checking you over.”

Mac rolled his eyes, batting away the hand that was coming up to feel the temperature of his forehead yet again. “You did check me over. Twice. And I didn’t even complain about it so honestly, I think I’ve done my time.”

His partner huffed, unsatisfied but momentarily diverted. “What are you talking about? You bitched the whole time.”

“Well, yeah, but if I hadn’t you’d have thought something was wrong.”

That was… not untrue. Jack scowled at him. “Maybe I wouldn’t have to be so pushy if you’d just tell me when there’s something I need to worry about.”

Despite the seriousness in his partner’s eyes, Mac couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. “I do! The only reason you think I don’t is because you imagine I’m always half a step away from death’s door when the worst I’ve got going on is a cold.”

“Yeah? You sure about that?”

Mac squinted at him, trying to work out if he’d just fallen into a trap before a memory suddenly struck him like lightning. “Tallinn doesn’t count.”

“Tallinn one hundred percent counts!”

“There were extenuating circumstances. And I was fine in the end, so it didn’t matter.”

“You got shot!”

“It was a graze, and barely that. Even Nikki said you were being overprotective.”

It was Jack’s turn to roll his eyes. “Nikki always took your side, that doesn’t count.”

“But I was fine though. Remember? Don’t even have a scar anymore. You nearly got yourself killed because you were too busy worrying about me, and there was no need for it.”

Jack had a return shot already lined up, but something in Mac’s eyes had gone soft and sad, and Jack had never been able to stand up to that. For all he made a big deal of worrying about Mac’s safety, it was a two-way street and Jack could admit he wasn’t always as careful with his own life as his partner would like him to be. Typically, they kept each other in line, but they both had moments when they faltered.

“Yeah, okay, I might have gone a little overboard that time,” he admitted gently, “But my point stands. You got shot and you didn’t think it worth mentioning! You’ve gotta forgive me if I don’t entirely take your word for it when you say you’re fine.”

“Which is why I let you check me over,” Mac agreed placidly, “And you saw that the worse injury I have is an incredibly minor bruise on my shoulder. I promise you Jack, I’m alright.”

The words seemed to be what Jack needed to finally be mollified, because he backed off from where he’d been crowding Mac into his own sofa and, with a final measuring look, headed for the fridge. He still didn’t look happy about it, but at least Mac could relax back without feeling like he was under a microscope for the first time in several hours.

It also, conveniently, gave him the perfect opportunity to keep a keen eye on Jack as he pottered about the kitchen. It felt a little hypocritical, given how long he’d just spent getting on at Jack for hovering, but in Mac’s defence, he hadn’t had the chance to check his partner for injuries and he wasn’t wholly convinced something hadn’t happened that he didn’t know about. Jack looked and was acting completely normal, but there’d been a solid ten minutes after Mac had fallen out of the car when they were separated, and he wanted to be certain he hadn’t missed anything important. Besides, for all Jack gave him shit about not owning up to injuries, he was a thousand times worse.

“I can feel you watching me hoss. See something you like?”

Mac pulled a face. “Gross.”

His partner turned to shoot him a dry look. How he’d known Mac was watching when he wasn’t even looking in his direction was beyond him. “I thought you just got done telling me I worry too much.”

“You do.”

“Mhmm. And what exactly would you call this, slick?”

A pause. “Reasonable expression of concern?”

Jack snorted. “Sure it is.”

“I didn’t see what happened after we got split up. Matty said something about a car crash.” He let a sliver of accusation slide into his tone.

“’After we got split up,’” he repeated mockingly. “You mean ‘after you fell out of a moving car’, and I’m pretty sure that disqualifies you from making judgements about my health right now.”

“Jack.” His voice was plaintive.

Jack crumbled like a house of cards. “I’m fine, Mac. Promise. There was a minor car crash that I may or may not have been involved in, but I was wearing my belt and we weren’t even going fast by that point. I walked away without a scratch.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

Mac eyed him critically, so Jack stepped out from behind the counter and spread his arms, letting Mac look. In his defence, he really did seem okay, but for a slight scuff at his hairline that was so minor neither of them even slightly bothered to acknowledge it. After a long moment, Mac felt himself nodding slowly. “Okay.”

Jack shot him a wry grin. “Told you.” He returned to the couch with a beer in either hand, offering one to his friend before cracking open his own and taking a long, relieved swig. “Ahh, it feels good to be home.”

..

Even with the rare phenomenon of arriving home uninjured, the pair of them were both too tired to get up to much more than vegging out on the couch with a few beers and a movie. It was nice all the same, just relaxing and chatting amiably. They’d both been on the go pretty much constantly for weeks, so it was a relief to just kick back and relax.

Somewhat guiltily, Mac was also quietly pleased that they got to have this time as just the two of them; he’d loved Bozer like a brother since he was a kid and Riley had become his family just as much as everyone else in a scarily short amount of time, but there was a certain amount of nostalgia in hanging out just with Jack. It had been just the two of them in the Sandbox and while he wasn’t exactly fond of his memories of the desert, it had been the setting for forging one of the most meaningful relationships of his life. Spending the night as just the two of them was oddly comforting.

As the hour grew later, their conversation started trailing off slowly, weariness tugging them down. Jack in particular seemed to be having tremendous trouble keeping his eyes open.

“It’s 'cause you’re getting old,” Mac told him with a snort. He got a swat on the arm for his trouble.

“’Old’, he says. I’ll show you old the next time we spar.”

Mac frowned softly; there was the slightest slur in Jack’s voice and they hadn’t had nearly enough beer for that. It could be fatigue, obviously, but a feeling he tended to think of as instinct picked up its head and started taking notice.

“Hey, Jack, you feeling okay?”

“Mmm?” Jack blinked at him lazily. “Yeah? We’ve been over this.”

His own tiredness fading away as his adrenaline spiked, Mac sat up to properly look him over. Dull, glazed eyes tracked his movement. “You sure about that? You’re not looking so good.”

He wasn’t – he was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, and his skin looked abnormally pale under the dim lamplight. Mac hadn’t noticed in the gloom, but now that he was properly paying attention, Jack was really starting to look awful. On instinct he snatched at Jack’s wrist, wincing at the beat racing beneath his fingertips.

“Mac,” Jack protested faintly, “’M fine. Stop worryin’.”

It was possibly the least convincing lie Mac had ever heard. His mind raced over the possibilities: lethargy, sweaty skin, and a rapid pulse weren’t exactly unique symptoms. Flicking on another lamp to give himself more light to work with, he pinched the tip of one of Jack’s fingers and watched as the colour slowly returned to it.

“Well,” he said as lightly as he could, “We can add low blood pressure to the mix.”

“Low w-ah?” Jack’s eyes were almost completely closed. Looking at him now, slumped into the cushions and so pale it was frightening, Mac couldn’t understand how he had ever thought the man was just tired. He was supposed to be his goddamn partner and he hadn’t seen this when Jack was two feet in front of him?

But there would be time for recriminations later. Right now, he needed to get Jack help and he needed to do it now.

“Hey, Jack, stay with me, okay? Can you stay awake?”

“’M tired Mac.”

“I know you are big guy, but I need you to talk to me, alright?”

“’Bout what?”

“Whatever you want.”

“Mmkay.” Nothing else followed after, and Mac’s heart sank right through the base of his stomach and kept going. He snatched his phone of the coffee table and dialled the Phoenix’s medical emergency SOS number. That should bring a paramedic crew running.

Lethargy, sweaty skin, pale, increased pulse, low blood pressure… He mentally worked his way through a first aid manual, but there were too many things those symptoms applied to. Okay, well then – if symptoms weren’t enough, what about circumstance? Jack had been fine earlier and all he’d done since then was drink a few beers. That left poisoning as an option, but the beers had been sealed and Mac felt fine, so it didn’t feel likely; a better option was probably a delayed onset of symptoms.

Jack had been in a fistfight that morning but he’d walked away with grazed knuckles and nothing else – Mac had been sure to check him over immediately after, so he was sure on that count. That left the car accident that he clearly hadn’t asked enough questions about.

“Jack? You still awake?” There was a faint hum in response. “Can you tell me if you’re in pain? Does your stomach hurt?”

He was pulling up Jack’s t-shirt before he got a response, noting the expected bruising over his shoulder from the seatbelt, right alongside the telltale bruising around his navel he’d prayed he wouldn’t see.

“Mm,” Jack agreed faintly. “Itches.”

“Shit,” Mac cursed sharply, wishing he’d had the sense to press Jack for a more thorough answer when he’d asked him about the car crash. Instead, he’d taken his word for it and then spent several hours sitting on a couch beside a man slowly bleeding to death. Way to fucking go. “Okay Jack, I think you’re bleeding internally. I’m going to get you to a hospital, but I need you to stay awake. C’mon man, don’t leave me hanging.”

The phone he’d dropped back onto the table started buzzing sharply, Matty’s face staring up at him. He batted at the answer button with one hand, carefully feeling for Jack’s pulse again with the other.

“Why has an emergency call just gone up from your house Blondie?” She was evidently trying to sound annoyed at the late-night interruption, but the worry in her voice was plain to anyone who knew her.

“Matty, it’s Jack. Something’s wrong – I think it’s internal bleeding. He’s got all the symptoms of someone going into shock and if I’m right, he’s been bleeding for hours. I need an ambulance here right now.”

Even barely conscious, Jack seemed to stir to life at the audible distress in Mac’s voice because he blinked at him, flopping a limp hand to grip at Mac’s wrist weakly. Mac felt a little bit like crying.

“One’s on its way,” Matty reported sharply, falling into her usual role of command. “I’ll get our techs to clear the roads for you as best they can, should give you a clear run to Cedars. ETA four minutes.”

“Thanks Matty.”

“How’s he doing?”

“Hanging in there,” he said with more hope than he really felt. Jack was still semi-conscious, but he’d deteriorated from talking normally and drinking a beer to a slurring, barely responsive mess inside of half an hour and Mac had no idea how long Jack could keep this up. For all his head was full of medical knowledge and equations and anatomy diagrams, none of that would do him the slightest bit of good when it came to trying to stem internal bleeding. The best he could do was delay things for a little while. “Okay Jack,” he murmured, mostly to himself, “We need to get you lying down. This might hurt big guy. I’m sorry.”

From the groan Jack let loose when Mac carefully pulled him down to lie flat on the sofa, it did more than just hurt, but there was nothing to be done about it. He’d already lost far too much blood and keeping him upright was just making it harder for his brain to get what it needed. As soon as he was settled, Mac grabbed the free cushions and jammed them under Jack’s feet.

“Mac?” Matty’s voice felt tinny and far away.

“Yeah, still here,” he said, unnecessarily. “Just, uh. Just getting him lying down and elevating his legs. Make things easier on his heart and conserve blood flow for his vital organs.”

She let out a sound that might have been a laugh if there had been any amusement in it. “I’ve done first aid too Blondie. I trust you. I’m asking if you’re okay.”

He paused fractionally to frown at the phone. “What? I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound fine.”

Her words tickled something in the back of his head and he froze for a moment to take stock of himself. He was breathing heavily, he noted in surprise, and his body was shuddering with very fine tremors. His hands were as steady as they always were, but it dawned on him that that was only because it was a practiced response to stress, something he’d conditioned himself for and had to actively control. With everything else going on in his head, he hadn’t even realised he’d been doing it.

Panic, he realised suddenly. He was panicking.

He sucked in a sharp, forceful breath, and held it. Matty was right: he was not fine.

“What’s the ETA on that ambulance?” He asked instead of admitting to it. Now that he was listening, he could hear the slight catch in his voice.

“One minute.”

“Okay. We can manage that.”

“It’s going to be okay Mac. I’ve made sure the paramedics know what to expect, and they’ve been brought up to date on his medical history and condition. I just need you to keep it together for me.”

He nodded, then belatedly realised she couldn’t see him. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good, I’m here.”

“I know you are.” She sounded like she was smiling. “There’s no one else in the world who could take better care of Jack than you can. Just hang in there.”

Now was probably not the time to tell her just how badly he’d failed in his job to keep an eye on Jack. That conversation could come later, once he was sure that Jack was going to be okay and he’d been able to speak with the man himself. He was the one owed an apology, after all.

Instead, he just muttered an agreement and waited with bated breath for the medics to arrive.

..

Jack stirred to the depressingly familiar burning under his skin that meant he’d had a blood transfusion in the very recent past. Mac had always scoffed at him when he’d said he could feel it, like an imposter in his veins, but it was the god’s honest truth and he recognised it now. Which was kind of strange, considering the last thing he could remember was hanging out on Mac’s sofa with a beer and absolutely no cares in the world. If he couldn’t remember an injury, then maybe something had happened…

Maybe Mac was in trouble.

A hefty dose of adrenaline was dumped directly into his bloodstream with the thought, and his eyes popped open. The light seared his retinas something fierce, but that wasn’t as important as finding out where his partner was and making sure that he was okay.

Fortunately, a series of rapid blinks immediately revealed the solution. Mac was sitting beside him, folded uncomfortably into a too-small hospital chair with his head propped up on his fist as he dozed. He looked- well, awful, honestly, but unhurt. The fluorescent overhead lights washed out his already pale skin and the bags under his eyes were dark enough to look like bruises. Even in sleep, his forehead was creased with worry.

“Mac?” He called softly, not really wanting to disturb his sleep since he so clearly needed it but also knowing that if he slept like that he’d regret it in the morning.

His partner jolted awake in an instant, casting about wildly until his eyes landed on Jack. Visible relief washed over him. “Hey big guy,” he said equally quietly. “You feeling okay?”

Jack pointed with his eyes to the IV at the crook of his elbow. “Transfusion?”

“Yeah.” Mac sighed heavily, running a hand over his face in a futile attempt at waking himself up. “Turns out that you didn’t walk away from that car crash as unscathed as you thought you did.”

That… didn’t make sense. He frowned until Mac elaborated.

“You tore your spleen. Not much, just a little nick really, but it bled pretty heavily. You went into shock.”

Jack digested that slowly, suddenly recognising the deep, blunted ache in his abdomen that he had come to associate with surgery. Mac’s story made sense, but he couldn’t help but feel like it was missing a whole load of steps, particularly given the haunted look lingering in his partner’s eyes. He’d evidently missed something important while he’d been out.

“You okay?”

He scoffed. “Yeah, Jack. I’m fine. You’re the one who just got out of surgery.” He paused, then added as an afterthought, “You still have a spleen by the way. The damage was minor enough they were able to patch it without going to the hassle of a splenectomy.”

“Didn’t answer my question.”

“Yes, I did. I’m not hurt, remember? We went over this.” He looked faintly annoyed, and Jack had a sneaky feeling that it wasn’t aimed at him.

A lot of things came together in Jack’s head very quickly. He’d always been good at figuring out what was going on in the kid’s head, even when he didn’t understand it in the slightest. “Hey. It wasn’t your fault man. You hear me? Whatever you’re blaming yourself for right now? Wasn’t your fault.”

Mac’s eyes darted away, his hands coming together to pick at his cuticles. Gotcha.

A sniper to the core, Jack just waited him out. Mac had never been very good at long silences. “I should have noticed something was up. You were bleeding – dying – and I was just sitting right there not doing anything about it. I didn’t even realise something was wrong until you went into shock.”

“I didn’t notice anything either,” he pointed out calmly. It was true; he’d felt a little nauseous and tired, but he’d put both down to needing a good night’s rest. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told Mac he thought he was good.

“You were going into shock. You were barely conscious.”

“Hey, I was conscious plenty. It was, what? Six hours between that crash and me going cross-eyed? In all that time, I didn’t feel a thing.”

“You wouldn’t have done,” Mac said quietly, falling back on his usual need to explain. “The blood pooled in your abdomen. It’s a mild irritant but otherwise, you wouldn’t know it was there unless you specifically went looking for it. I should have been looking for it.”

“You were, remember? I’m the one who told you I was fine.”

“And I shouldn’t have listened!” It was the first time his voice slipped from the quiet control he’d evidently been clinging to, and suddenly Jack could see desperation and guilt staring back at him. “If it had been me, you wouldn’t have listened. You didn’t listen – you insisted on checking me over to make sure that I was okay even when I told you I was. But I just took your word for it and then didn’t pay enough attention until you were half-dead!”

“Mac. Listen to me.” He kept his voice low and level, praying that his partner would hear his sincerity. “This was not your fault. You didn’t notice anything was wrong because I told you it wasn’t and you trusted me. That’s not a failing. And besides, I’m guessing I’m only here now because you figured it out in time to get me to help. You didn’t fail me Mac, you saved me.”

“I-” He faltered, his eyes reddening as too many emotions crowded in at once. “It was so close Jack.”

And no doubt it had been made worse by the otherwise innocuous setting it had taken place in. His heart went out to him. “I know man. I’m sorry for that. Really. But you can’t blame yourself. Promise me, man.”

Mac looked at him for a long time, a single tear escaping his iron grip to run down his cheek. He brushed it away angrily, fighting to get himself under control. Jack let him work through it in silence, attuned to every shift and expression. Eventually, the storm clouds on Mac’s brow started to recede, leaving behind an exhausted and guilty, but balanced, partner behind. It wasn’t perfect, and they’d definitely be having this conversation again, but it was a kind of peace and that would have to be enough for now.

“The next time you get in a car accident I’m taking you to a hospital,” he said firmly.

Jack snorted, then winced. “Okay. Deal. Just the once though.”

“Not a chance.”

“C’mon man, I’m fine! Look at me, never been better.”

“That’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

“Your face is funny.”

“Oh wow. MIT brain and you came up with that zinger. Honestly, I’m impressed.”

“Hey, now, cut me some slack. Some of us haven’t spent the last five hours getting in our beauty sleep.”

“Evidently.”

“Hey.”

[asflowersfade]

Ficlet: The Quiet Place

A MacGyver ficlet, coda to episode 212. Mac’s friends stage an intervention. Mac’s POV.

They’re waiting for him when he comes back from grocery shopping.

Setting his bags down on the counter, Mac heads for the living room, slowly and with his brows furrowed in puzzlement. Because there they are, Jack and Riley and Matty and Bozer, sitting there and watching him with various degrees of grimness and determination. Mac’s weirdly reminded of…

“Guys?” he asks warily.

“Sit down, Mac,” Bozer tells him and waves his hand at the last remaining armchair, situated right in front of them. “We are staging an intervention!”

Yeah, that. That’s exactly what this reminds Mac of. The last... intervention they staged in his very own living room, after they found out that he was still looking for Nikki. But this time, Mac’s sure - well, pretty sure - he’s not keeping anything from his friends. He’s learned his lesson. So, what the hell’s going on here?

“Sit!” Bozer orders more firmly.

And Mac obeys, sinking into the armchair, his eyes bouncing from one of his friends to the other uncertainly. What did he do? What do they think he did? He doesn’t have to wonder long, though, because Bozer gets to the point right away.

“We want you to move,” he states.

Mac blinks rapidly. “I… beg your pardon?” he asks, certain he must’ve heard wrong.

It’s Jack who answers him. Perched on the edge of the fireplace, he nods. “Bozer’s right. You, my friend, need to move out of this house, clear this joint, scamper, live anywhere but here! Because everybody seems to know where your nest is these days - our enemies in particular! - and I don’t think my heart can take yet another surprise visit by any one of them at your home any time soon!”

So, that’s what this is about? Mac rolls his eyes. “Jack, we talked about this--”

“Yes, we did, amigo! While that thing was ticking away happily under both of our asses!” Jack snaps, cutting Mac off. “You told me we should take it one problem at a time, then. Well, now it’s time to do away with this one!”

“It’s not a problem--” Mac objects.

This time it’s Riley who interrupts him. “Mac, no offense but Murdoc tried to kill you here. He kidnapped you from here. The Ghost would’ve leveled this whole neighborhood just to get back at you. I think this does constitute as a problem.”

“That’s… It’s not…” He doesn’t really have a response to that because, well, it’s true.

“And those are just two of your enemies, Mac,” Matty adds kindly. “What about the La Ola Cartel? Do you think they just forgave and forgot that you destroyed one of their warehouses, a whole lot of their guns and their meth lab? And what about El Noche? Did you forget about him?”

She looks at him pointedly and Mac drops his eyes, unable to meet her gaze.

Bozer turns to Matty. “Who?”

“Oh, Boze,” Jack says, laughing without merriment. “We’ll need a free afternoon and a lot of booze to cover that one. For now, let’s just say that he set a price on Mac’s head. How much was it?” He looks at Mac, also pointedly. “Four million US dollars?”

“What?” Bozer yelps. Then he turns to Mac, all bug-eyed. “Just how many enemies do you have that I know nothing about, man?”

Well…

“What we’re trying to say, Mac,” Matty continues, “is that you’ve been very lucky so far. The people around you have been very lucky.”

That’s just a low blow, Mac thinks.

“But imagine if your enemies pooled their resources. If they ever decided to join forces, they would have the necessary intel, means and money to take you out, easily so.” Matty shakes her head. “You wouldn’t stand a chance, not even with all our support.”

Mac knows that she’s right. He knows it but… He rubs his face. “Matty…” he whispers.

“Look, man,” Jack says gently. “I get it, it’s your grandpa’s house, your home. But I think he would want you to live more than he would want you to keep a piece of real estate, don’t you think?”

Mac’s quiet, staring down at the carpet. He understand where they’re coming from and in their place, he would probably say the same things but… he’s not. He’s not in their place and they’re not in his and as he listens to them, to their arguments, all good and logical and right, he can feel frustration boiling inside him because, no, they don’t get it!

Jack continues, “I know what it means to get attached to something because it’s the last piece of your loved one left. Remember my dad’s dog tags? So, I know--”

That’s it. “No, you don’t!” Mac explodes angrily, taking them all by surprise, and breathing hard, he adds quietly, coldly, “You don’t know. You don’t get it!”

His anger lasts only a second, though. The wounded look on Jack’s face snuffs it out in a heartbeat and all of a sudden he feels like a heel for yelling at his friend.

He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and in a soft, imploring voice, he tells Jack, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that, as an insult, Jack. I swear. I swear.”

Jack stares at him for a second, then he nods, accepting Mac’s apology.

Mac sighs and rubbing his face, he says, “What I meant was... l-I’m not sure if I can explain it right, why this house’s so important to me.”

“Try,” Matty prompts him kindly.

Leaning back, Mac stares at the ceiling for a moment, thinking about it. Then he looks at them, at one after the other, and says, “What we do every day, it’s a lot. A lot! And I love my job, I really do, helping people, the thrill of it. But it’s never... quiet. Up here” --he touches his temple-- “it’s never quiet. Unless I’m here. This is my quiet place, this house. I don’t have to think here. I feel… safe here.”

Jack lifts his eyebrows. “Even after everything?” he asks in disbelief. “After Murdoc and Casper the Unfriendly Ghost?”

Mac rubs his face again. “I know it makes no sense but it is so. Maybe it’s because I have so many fond memories of this place, of my grandfather and the good old... normal days, but… yeah, even now, I feel safe here. This house, it makes it quiet up here.” He taps at his temple again.

They all stare at him for a very long time, not knowing how to respond, until Mac starts feeling downright uncomfortable. He knew it would be nigh impossible to--

But then. “Fine, no moving out then,” Jack says, stating it as a done deal, and when Mac blinks at him in surprise, he continues, “Onto plan B, then.”

“Plan… B?” Mac asks uncertainly.

“Yes,” Jack replies, nodding. “If you won’t move to a more secure location, then we’ll have to turn this hut into Fort Knox.” He looks around, grimacing a little.

Mac frowns. “What?”

“An actual home security system wouldn’t be amiss, Mac,” Matty explains.

“Yeah, and since the Ghost was nice enough to turn your house into a Swiss cheese, holes everywhere, it shouldn’t take much,” Jack comments.

“Agreed,” Riley nods, smiling a little. “I can work with the security division at the Foundation. If we put our heads together, it shouldn’t take us more than a few days.” She shrugs.

“It’s really not a bad idea, Mac,” Bozer joins in. “I would feel much safer here with something more than a baseball bat under my bed for protection.”

Mac looks from Bozer to Jack who’s smiling a little and nodding encouragingly. Mac feels really touched. And not just because they’re willing to do this for him but because they simply accepted his explanation and didn’t try to convince him that his reasons were irrational or downright stupid. They just rolled with it.

His throat feels thick when he says, “Thanks, guys, that would be-that would be great…”

Jack just shrugs like it’s nothing. “That’s what family’s for, man.”

And Mac smiles and whispers, “Yeah, it really is.”