Title: Mac+Comfort+Jack

Author: dragonfly

Genre: drama, h/c, gen

Warnings: Spoilers for 3x11.

Summary: MacGyver's overly exhausted and overactive brain won't let him, or Jack, rest. (PapaJack and worried Matty)

A/N: I needed some comfort after that ep, and I figured maybe MacGyver did, too.

Disclaimer: I don't own MacGyver or any of its characters.

*MACGYVER*

Jack blinked open heavy-lidded eyes with a groan and squinted at the lights swirling around. It took him a moment to remember why he was hurting all when he did remember, he wanted to forget. With lights and wind came hollering and the sound of numerous boots on the ground. Jack tensed and tightened an arm around his charge.

"Jack?"

Releasing a breath, he looked up as Matty walked around the SUV they were resting against.

She let out her own relieved sigh. "Can't you two do anything normal?"

Jack shrugged the shoulder MacGyver wasn't sleeping on. He had curled up against him for warmth—neither having the strength to move much further, let alone drive, after making a call from the cell phone they had found in the SUV. He had fallen asleep almost immediately and Jack was quick to follow.

She shot MacGyver a concerned look. "I realize this might be a stupid question, but are you guys okay?"

"Eh." Jack waved an iffy hand.

Matty looked less than pleased with his answer. "Where's Griggs?"

He gestured with a nod of his head. Barely having the strength to get themselves up the ladder, they had secured him at the bottom. He looked down at MacGyver, surprised that he hadn't woke yet from all the fuss around them.

Matty ordered the tac team to fetch Griggs and some blankets. As the sun set, a chill was settling over the desert—one that he and Mac had already noticed. "The medics will be here any moment."

Nodding, Jack absently rubbed his chest.

"Dalton." Matty used her don't bullshit me tone as she noticed the blood on his shirt for the first time in the low light.

Jack dropped his hand. "I'm fine, we're fine; nothing some real rest and a few therapy sessions can't handle."

Her eyebrows rose, as did the concern on her face. "That bad?"

"Well, it wasn't good."

One of the tac team members yelled something and MacGyver bolted awake, crying out Jack's name.

"Whoa, hey, I'm right here, bud." Jack squeezed his shoulder, not at all surprised by the reaction.

MacGyver turned to him, eyes wide and breathless as his mind waged a war between hope and despair.

"You didn't shoot me, Mac," Jack assured, knowing exactly what his partner had been dreaming about. He kept his tone calm and steady—despite his heart breaking at the anguish in the younger man's eyes. "I'm fine. It was a trick; all part of the plan, remember?"

MacGyver continued to stare at him, but slowly as memory resurfaced, the grip he probably didn't even realize he had on Jack's shirt relaxed. Finally, letting out a breath, he closed his eyes and sagged back against the SUV and his partner.

"You with me now?"

Swallowing hard, he nodded, but Jack noted that he still looked a little green around the edges. And with him pressed up against him, he could feel him shaking. It had less to do with the chill in the air than it did with the past two days.

"Hey, Blondie."

MacGyver startled lightly at the gentle call; just seeming to realize in his state that they weren't alone. "Matty?" He looked up at her and rubbed a knuckle over his eye, making him look ridiculously younger than his years.

"You look like you could use a nap there, Baby Einstein."

He hummed and dropped his head onto Jack's shoulder; curling more into the former delta when a medic knelt at his side.

Noticing the uncharacteristic behavior, Matty shot a look of concern at Jack. He shrugged his shoulder again and repeated grimly, "It wasn't good."

"Okay," her worry skyrocketed, "as much as I'm dying for some clarity here, I think the sooner we get you guys back to Phoenix and medical, the better."

Jack gave her a thumbs up with his free hand while MacGyver weakly and ineffectively tried to push away the medic who was attempting to tend to him.

"You think you guys can make it to the chopper?"

Jack looked down at his partner. "Hey, Mac."

"Hmm?" Head still resting on his shoulder, his eyes were drifting closed—despite his best efforts.

"I need you to let these boys help me get you to the chopper." He creatively worded it to make it sound like he was the one that needed help. "Can you do that for me?"

MacGyver frowned and craned his neck back to look up at him. It was clear, just by the look in his eyes that he wasn't firing on all cylinders—that whole cognitive decline thing and all, especially now that their adrenaline had bottomed out. Still, his concern was for Jack.

"I'm just tired, bud," he promised. "I know you are, too."

MacGyver blinked sluggishly, then taking a deep breath, he tried to push Jack to his feet. He was pushing at completely the wrong angle, though, and too exhausted and uncoordinated, Jack ended up just falling over onto his side. And MacGyver fell on top of him.

"Honestly you guys," Matty stepped in to help, "if I wasn't so damn worried, I'd find this hysterical." She helped a dazed MacGyver into a seated position before handing him off to the medics. Then she helped Jack.

"Make sure they check his side and leg…and, uh, head." He washed a hand down his face as he leaned back against the SUV.

"Don't worry, Jack," she promised as his eyes drifted closed. "I'll take care of my boys."

~*~MACGYVER~*~

Thankfully there were no serious injuries to report. Jack had a bruised chest. MacGyver had some deep bruising on his side and hip, and they were both exhausted and dehydrated, but Jack was right—it wasn't anything some good rest couldn't heal.

Unfortunately, that was the one thing they hadn't been able to get. It was never long after MacGyver fell asleep that he'd wake up in a panic, crying out for Jack—terrified that he had killed him. Jack, would in turn, wake in his own panic, calling and searching for Mac. It was a vicious, exhausting cycle. The medical staff was starting to consider moving them to different rooms, but Matty knew that would do more harm than good.

She was about to suggest at least moving their beds closer together when MacGyver woke in another panic; "I'm sorry," an anguished whisper on his lips. Though he barely made a sound this time, Jack woke too. His spidey senses were finely tuned—especially when it came to certain blonde wunderkinds.

She had tried to calm MacGyver herself numerous times, but only his overwatch had been able to get through to him—convince him that he was alive. So, she stayed off to the side where she had been making a call, and looked on with worry as Jack moved stiffly, but determined with his IV pole in tow across the eight feet that separated them.

Sitting up, MacGyver was hunched over with his head in his hands. The fact that he wasn't calling for Jack meant that he was awake and knew that it was just a nightmare, but he was still clearly haunted by it.

"Come on." Jack dropped a hand onto his bowed head. "Move over, bud."

Looking positively miserable, MacGyver looked up at him from beneath long bangs. "I'm fine." He sniffed and brushed the back of his hand across his cheek. "Go back to bed."

"It's too far away. Come on." He nudged him. "Scoot."

"Ja—"

"If you don't move over, I'm gonna fall over."

Matty grinned, knowing Jack's play before MacGyver even begrudgingly complied. Jack had always been the more tactile of the two, and when words alone weren't enough to comfort, he could easily turn to touch. It wasn't so easy for Mac. She wasn't sure if it was nature or nurture that was responsible, but could honestly say that Jack's influence over the years had had an impact on him. A positive one.

Settling onto his back, Jack tapped his own chest lightly, mindful of the bruises. "Alright, come on."

Still sitting up, chin resting on his palm, MacGyver blinked tiredly. "I'm not lying on you, Jack."

"It's the only way either of us is gonna get some sleep, man. Now come on, bring it in."

She could see MacGyver's resolve breaking; the kid was exhausted. Jack's arm remained extended in waiting. "Don't make me wait all day, kid."

The corner of MacGyver's mouth twitched upwards briefly. "I hate you," he muttered without any heat, eyes closing even as he sat there.

Jack's arm slid behind MacGyver's back and gently—careful of his injuries; he pulled him down onto his chest. "Yeah, I know. I hate you, too, bud."

Resigned and grumbling sleepily as he curled into him, MacGyver tucked his arms between them. Matty didn't catch what he said, but it made Jack smile fondly down at him and shake his head. She smiled too because tucked up against Jack's side, head on his chest, MacGyver was already out. The lines that had run deep across his brow—even in sleep, had smoothed out. And his body no longer looked tense; like it had been carrying a pain it couldn't bear to hold. Finally, finally he looked at peace.

Tightening an arm around him protectively, Jack brushed his hand through the blonde hair. He knew, as did she—that once his overactive brain got some rest, he'd have an easier time processing everything, distinguishing between what was real, and what was not. "He'll be alright."

Of course Jack knew that she was there. "I know. But your next manniversary will have a protection detail, Dalton. Two of them."

"Whatever you say, boss lady." He adjusted his head on the pillow and closed his eyes. "Whatever you say."

And just like that, arm still around MacGyver, he was out too.

They'd stay that way for the next nine hours without so much as a twitch.

It was a testament to just how exhausted they were.

It was a testament to the bond they had…which was something Griggs had grossly underestimated.