Hi, @erinsworld, I hope this is okay. I kinda took your tags:
#Matty’s voice #an order #but her voice is soft #eyes worried #as she speaks to…#mac? #who’s gazing at Jack lying on a gurney #a jack who is very much not dead #who’s beat to all hell #but is somehow #very much #miraculously #not dead #so yes #mac is going to take Jack home
Jack is startled out of his doze when something jostles the gurney he’s lying on. For a terrible, confused moment he doesn’t know where he is; despite the blankets that have been carefully wrapped around him, he’s still cold, which only adds to his disorientation. But then he feels something else, a gentle touch on his arm, the warmth of another body next to his hip.
When he finally prises his swollen eyes open, his vision initally is a little blurred, but he immediately recognizes the lanky figure next to him; it’s his boy, whom he missed more than he could ever put into words; he seems exhausted, but his expression now lights up as he meets Jack’s gaze.
Jack doesn’t know how bad he’s looking right now, that his skin is so cloudy with bruises it resembles an abstract painting. He doesn’t need to know, actually, since everything hurts and everybody keeps speaking in hushed, concerned voices around him.
Which was worst when he first came around and the entire team was hovering by his side, anxious to see how he was doing and still a little incredulous that they had really gotten him back. To say it was a tender reunion would be an understatement.
Jack has no idea how much time has passed since then, since he’s ever so tired and keeps zoning out.
“Jack,” Mac now says, softly and with an audible tremor in his voice. “You with me?”
It takes Jack a moment to find his voice: “Yeah,” he croaks. “Hi.”
A smile spreads on Mac’s face as he regards his partner: for a moment, his own fatigue vanishes entirely, making room for affection and profound relief.
“You won’t believe it,” he says next, “but the doc actually agreed to release you.”
“As long as you behave,” Dr. Sinderby, who’s coming into the room together with Matty, interjects, raising his eyebrows at Jack: “You look surprised, Dalton. All of your injuries are manageable at home though, and there’s nothing better for recovery than a decent bed. So yeah, you can go, if you want to.”
Jack’s gaze strays back to Mac, who’s got an inkling what Jack’s thinking: “You’re staying with me,” he says quietly. “At least until everything’s sorted out. Riley and Bozer are already at the house, getting everything ready.”
At that, Jack visibly relaxes. As if there was ever any doubt about the fact that he’ll always have a home with Mac. On the other hand: he’s been away for years, away from the people he loves and his old life: he’s not used to taking anything for granted anymore. That notion actually hurts.
Blinking because of the sudden moisture in his eyes, Mac reaches for Jack’s hand and squeezes it: “I’ve got you,” he murmurs, the corners of his mouth quirking up. Jack’s eyes are twinkling as well as he squeezes back: already, he’s feeling a little less cold.
While the doctor gives Mac a list of instructions and a paper bag with Jack’s medication, the latter’s eyes close again of their own accord, and he’s too depleted to fight it.
Matty now nods at Dr. Sinderby, then turns to Mac: “Take him home,” she says softly; her expression’s still rather grave as she looks at Jack, betraying her concern. “Make sure he rests.”
“Yeah,” Mac replies, his voice gentle as his gaze follows hers and he contemplates the battered appearance of his sleeping friend. “I will.”
