Even though El Noche was securely locked back up in prison, and Mac was safe at home, he couldn't shake the nightmares that plagued him. Six days in a Max prison where Mac had only able to doze for maybe two hours a night, if he was lucky, Which meant now that he was out he was exhausted enough to sleep for a week, yet he found himself unable to sleep for more than two to three hours a night.

The most relentless of his nightmares involved reliving El Noche's new, creative, version of water boarding. Mac woke up time and time again, gasping for air, lungs feeling tight as his conscious mind fought to remember how to breathe again. The nightmare he had suffered through in the wee hours this morning had sent him into a mini panic attack. That had not been fun, and had involved Mac having to convince Bozer that he had only imagined someone was breaking into the house. The bump and bang Bozer had woken up to had been Mac himself, knocking over a lamp on his mad dash to the bathroom to puke his brains out. Seriously NOT fun times.

Also not fun? Trying to convince Jack that nothing was wrong with him.

Mac knew it was obvious, to anyone with eyes, that he hadn't been sleeping. If the dark circles making him look like a raccoon weren't enough, he was pretty sure the fact that he would doze off or zone out, at the most inopportune moments, was a big clue. Thornton hadn't exactly been subtle when she told him, just this morning, that she was making everyone take some "well-earned" vacation time for the next two weeks. She had then, not so subtly, ordered Mac to "Go home" and "sleep". Which he had promptly ignored. Because the moment he laid down and shut his eyes he was either back in his cell, or taped to the chair in El Noche's compound.

Keeping Bozer off his back wasn't exactly a picnic either. The harder Mac tried to convince his friend and roomie that he was perfectly fine, the more convinced Bozer seemed that Mac was anything but. Which he wasn't, but Mac didn't want Bozer to know that. He didn't want anyone to know that.

So here he was, sitting at the fire pit, alone, attempting to read a novel. Reading was usually one of Mac's go-to's when he needed to decompress. The problem was he couldn't lose himself in the story like he was normally able to do. Because he was so damn tired his brain kept taking him to where he didn't want to go. Tossing the book aside, Mac rubbed at eyes that burned with exhaustion and blinked heavy eyelids, hoping to stave off sleep.

Mac knew if he closed his eyes it would be like he was walking into that prison for the first time all over again. He would never admit it, not even to himself, but he had been terrified in that moment. Because of Riley, Mac had been prepared for what to expect, and that had helped. He had also known he had Jack in with him, watching his back and Riley listening in, which had been strangely comforting. But that hadn't stop him from feeling the weight of every inmate stare as he walked by them, nor did it disperse the feeling that the walls were closing in on him even now.

Then there was the moment Mac had realized he was completely on his own, and the cold jolt of panic that had gripped him and shook him, before his training kicked in and he'd gotten the job done, getting him and El Noche out of the prison. At that point there hadn't been time to feel fear, until he woke up in the trunk of a car. The fear factor had doubled at that point, then tripled when El Noche had water-boarded him with pure nitrogen.

Which brought him back around, full-circle, to the nightmares that plagued him relentlessly. Mac knew he needed to break the damn cycle, he just didn't know how. The memory of that moment was so vivid that he could feel the tape strapping his wrists to the chair, biting into his skin. He could feel the fingers of El Noche's goon gripping his hair and pulling hard, painfully. Even now he could smell the stale scent of gun powder, sweat and cigarettes that had overwhelmed Mac's senses as the plastic mask was pressed over his face. Feel the stutter of his lungs as he tried to hold his breath, only to be forced to inhale the icy nitrogen.

He felt his throat close up now, felt his chest tighten, felt himself become light-headed as he tried to suck in a lungful of air. He heard the sound of his own desperate gasps as he fought to breathe, and the flutter of panic that always seemed to linger of late gripped him like a vise and Mac could feel the rapid beat of his heart thumping in his temples.

"Mac!"

He was startled when hands gripped his shoulders, forcing a rapid inhale of breath that felt like a balm to his burning lungs. But it was short-lived as he immediately forgot how to breathe again.

Hands cupped his face and a blurry visage wavered in front of his eyes. He knew the voice calling his name, he just couldn't place it. But he could hear the panic infused in the words, even though they sounded like they were muted as if coming from under water, and it confused him enough that he fought to focus on remembering who this person was.

Which distracted him enough to allow his body to take over and breathe for him. Once he had sucked in a few lungfuls of sweet air, his vision cleared enough for Mac to recognize the worried face in front of him. "Riley..." His tight throat barely allowed him to croak out her name.

But she looked relieved, none the less, as she locked eyes with him and said firmly, "Breathe with me, Mac. Okay? In and out...nice and slow. In and out."

Somehow his muddled brain managed to follow her commands and, after what felt like forever, Mac realized he could breathe easily and the anxiety that had nearly paralyzed him was fading away. However, he was still trembling and a sudden wave of nausea washed over him. Jumping to his feet, Mac bolted inside to the bathroom, dropping to his knees by the toilet and emptying his stomach.

There wasn't much in his stomach, since eating hadn't been high on his list of priorities of late, so Mac mostly spit up bile. Which left a sour taste in his mouth when he was finally able to stand up and flush the toilet. He turned to the sink and rinsed his mouth with mouth wash before brushing his teeth twice. He felt sweaty and shaky and annoyingly weak, prompting Mac to turn on the shower. Maybe if the water was hot enough he could wash away the memory of the prison and El Noche's compound. Realistically Mac knew it wouldn't help, but at this point he figured it couldn't hurt to try.

Turning to close the door, he spotted Riley hovering just outside it. He hadn't actually forgotten about her, but he had gotten distracted. "I'm sorry..." he wasn't sure why he was apologizing, but he felt the need to.

"It's okay, Mac." She offered a warm smile laced with sympathy. "I get it."

"Yeah." He had no doubt that she did, after all she had spent two years in a max prison. Mac was suddenly disgusted with himself. Riley had suffered in a hell hole for all that time and yet here he was freaking out after just 6 days.

Riley took a hesitant step forward. "Mac...if you don't mind I'm going to hang out here while you shower. I can call for pizza and we can watch a movie. Or talk."

A part of Mac wanted nothing more than to send Riley away, so he could metaphorically self-flagellate himself in private, but a stronger part of him didn't want to be alone. "Pizza sounds good," he replied. "Get whatever you like, it's on me."

"I'll do that." As she spoke, Riley pulled out her phone and moved into the living room to make the call.

Mac went to shut the door, only to remember he needed something to change into. A quick trip to his bedroom and he pulled out sweat pants, socks, briefs a t-shirt and his favorite hoodie. Bozer called this particular outfit his *comfort* clothes. He wasn't wrong.

Twenty minutes later, Mac was showered and dressed in his *comfort clothes*. He ran his fingers through his damp hair in an attempt to smooth it out, then he exited the bathroom and wandered into the living room to find it empty. A half turn and he spotted Riley sitting by the fire pit. Suddenly feeling nervous, Mac headed for the fridge where he retrieved two beers before heading out to join her.

She smiled at him as she accepted a bottle. In companionable silence they popped them open and took a few sips. Mac find himself slowly relaxing as he stared at the fire and, without realizing it, he drifted off. Only to come back to awareness with a gasp as the sense memory of drowning overwhelmed him, yet again.

"Mac, it's okay." Riley's voice was soft as soothing as she gripped his shoulder, grounding him. "You're safe. You're home and you're safe."

"Right...home..." Mac glanced around at familiar surroundings and he managed to bring his breathing under control after a moment. It was then that he noticed his beer was sitting on the side table and a light blanket was draped over his lap. "How long did I sleep?"

Riley glanced at her watch. "Almost an hour. Pizza came and I put it in the oven."

Mac had forgotten about the pizza. "How much do I owe you?" He flung the blanket aside and made to get up in search of his wallet, but Riley waved him back down.

"This one's on me," she stated, moving to sit on the edge of the fire pit surround so they were face to face. "I owe you, Mac. More than I could ever repay. Because of you I'm a free woman, I have a great job and I have my own place. All the things I dreamed about while I was locked up and, honestly, thought I would never get to have again." Riley's dark eyes glistened and she blinked hard, sniffling once before clearing her throat and continuing. "Mac...I can't ever explain how much it means to me that you gave me a chance to become a part of this...weird...family. I know I'm rambling but...I just..."

"It's okay, Riley," Mac interjected. "I get it." He really did. "And...you're welcome. But Jack's the one you need to thank. He's the one that told us about you. Best idea he's ever had."

Riley snorted. "He has ideas that don't involve shooting things?"

Mac found himself laughing and it felt nice as a change of pace. "On occasion he thinks of other things."

"Like punching people?" Riley offered.

"Like that," Mac confirmed, grinning. He grabbed his beer and took a swig, making a face at the tepid and flat mouthful. "That's nasty."

Riley smirked. "I could have told you that. Nothing worse than warm beer. You hungry?"

Mac shrugged. "Not really. You?"

"I could eat." She stood up and stepped around his chair. "Did I ever mention that I hate eating alone?"

"I don't believe so, but I can take a - not so subtle - hint." Mac got up and followed her into the kitchen.

Riley removed the pizza box from the oven and set it on the counter top. "Glad to hear it," she replied, opening and closing cupboards.

Mac pointed to the cupboard to the right of the sink. "Plates are there, silverware in the drawer below."

"Silverware?" Riley echoed, looking scandalized. "Pizza is finger food, my friend."

"Right you are," Mac concurred, as he accepted a slice of cheese and mushroom pizza. It didn't look the least bit appetizing, but he made himself take a bite. It tasted like ash in his mouth and he had to force himself to swallow.

Riley was watching him, but she said nothing as he pushed his plate away. "I can't imagine what it was like for you inside,' she said softly.

Mac frowned at her. "Seriously? You're the only person who knows what it was like for me. And, to be honest, I can't believe how much of a wuss I really am. You made it through two years inside, and I'm falling apart after only six days!" Mac pushed away from the counter, vibrating with anger. He was furious with himself, frustrated and disappointed at his own behavior. He felt like he should be punished for being so damn weak.

Suddenly Riley was in front of him thumping a finger against his chest. "You need to take a chill pill, Mac. You hear me? Stop beating yourself up for feeling what you feel."

"I'm stronger than this!" Mac snapped, uncertain if he was trying to convince her or himself.

"You're the strongest person I know," Riley conceded. "But you're only human. So stop beating yourself up because of nightmares and panic attacks. You've earned them."

Mac opened his mouth for a comeback, but closed it when he realized what she'd said. After a moment he asked, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Riley pushed him over to the couch and made him sit before curling up in the other corner. "It means, I still have nightmares and panic attacks. And even though I was inside longer than you were, the scenario was totally different. Once I made a stand for myself, I was able to put my head down and basically disappear into the woodwork. You had to walk into that hell hole and put yourself out there to get El Noche's attention."

"I'm an agent and I had a mission," Mac countered, wanting her to understand just how different things were for them, because he had known he was going home at the end of the mission. "I had you and Jack watching my back too. I wasn't alone like you were."

"That's the thing." Riley rested her chin on her upraised knees and locked eyes with Mac. "We didn't have your back. We left you on your own, and you didn't even know you were on your own."

Mac could tell she was upset and it surprised him. "That wasn't your fault. We never have complete control of circumstances during a mission. You know that."

Riley shrugged. "Doesn't make me feel any better. I wanted to pull you out when things went sideways, but Thornton and Jack refused. They knew you could get the job done. I have to say, that was pretty damn impressive. You broke out of an unbreakable prison."

"It's what I do," Mac countered, heaving a sigh. He knew Riley was trying to make him feel better, but it wasn't going to work. "I got the job done...it shouldn't have messed me up so badly."

"I think it's just everything catching up to you all at once." Riley unwound her limbs and leaned forward, her expression grave. "Mac...when I met you, you were dealing with the death of your girl friend, who turned out to be alive only to betray you yet again. Which you blame yourself for. Then, not so long, ago that Ghost person made you relive your mentor's death, nearly killing Jack along the way. Which I know you also blame yourself for. Then you spend six hellish days in a max prison, only to break out the bad guy, who kidnaps you and water boards you, all the while never knowing if we were going to show up in time to rescue you. I'd be more concerned if you weren't having a bit of a breakdown."

Mac arched an eyebrow at her. "A *bit* of a breakdown? Feels pretty full-blown to me."

Riley snorted. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm glad I'm not the only one suffering nightmares and panic attacks. In a weird sort of way...it helps knowing I'm not alone."

"That is weird," Mac teased, wanting to lighten things up a bit. He was tired of feeling like he was weighed down by his own damn fears. "But...you're not wrong. It does help knowing that you understand what I'm feeling."

"You know I'm always available if you want to talk, or drink a beer, or whatever," Riley offered, somewhat hesitantly. Like she wasn't sure how her offer would go over with him.

Mac wanted to reassure her that it was all good. He really did appreciate her honesty with him, and her empathy. Lately he felt as if a band of anxiety was wrapped around his chest too tightly, restricting his ability to take a deep breath and exhale away his worries. But now he realized that the band had loosened a bit and he could breathe deep again. Mac knew his issues weren't over, but he felt as if he were on the right track to overcoming them.

So he got up and grabbed them fresh bottles of beer. He wasn't really sure how to show his appreciation so he kept it simple. "Thank you, Riley. And, for the record, I'm here for you. For...whatever."

"Good to know." Riley clinked her bottle against his before taking a long swallow. "So...wanna watch a movie?"

"Netflix?" Mac countered. "I'm two seasons behind on Game of Thrones."

Riley looked horrified. "Seriously? I was in prison for two years and I'm all caught up. What is wrong with you?"

Mac huffed. "You want a list? Jack would tell you it's a mile long."

"What does Jack know?" Riley snagged the remote before making herself comfortable. "How many eps do you think we can binge watch before midnight tonight?"

"Was that a rhetorical question?" Mac queried, because he could totally do the calculations if she wanted.

Riley narrowed her gaze at him. "Yes it was. Shut up and watch." She clicked onto the Season 5 and asked, "What ep?"

Mac winced, as he grabbed a pillow and stuffed it behind his head. "One." He ignored Riley's put upon sigh and settled himself comfortably. He wasn't going to overthink the moment, he was just going to accept that he was making progress and leave it at that.

For the next few hours Mac let himself get caught up in the guilty pleasure of his favorite show, and the warm companionship that Riley offered. He didn't realize that he fell asleep sometime during episode 5. He didn't feel Riley lay a blanket over him, or notice when she tipped over onto his shoulder, falling asleep herself during episode seven.

Mac most definitely didn't hear Bozer let himself in, nor did he catch him taking of picture of sleeping duo. Mac didn't even realize that for once he didn't dream about drowning. Instead he slept on, drifting on the edge of his anxieties but never crossing over into them.

Ten hours later the buzz of his phone woke him. Mac fumbled for it, nearly rolling off the couch before catching himself. He rubbed a hand over his face, feeling drowsy but more rested than he had in weeks as he answered it. "Jack...what's up?"

"You, I hope," Jack replied. "I thought we could go fishing. Pick you up in an hour?"

"Fishing?" Mac thought maybe he had misunderstood. "Why would we go fishing?"

There was a moment of silence before Jack said, "Because we can? Get your skinny ass up and ready. We'll catch a bucketful then grill it for dinner tonight."

Mac snorted, imagining his grill going up in flames. "You can't cook, Jack," he reminded his friend.

"Technicalities, my friend," Jack countered. "So, you in?"

"Why not. See you in an hour." Mac figured he didn't have anything better to do. But before hanging up he said, "Why don't you invite Riley to come with us."

That made Jack pause. "I can't picture Riley fishing."

Mac shrugged, even though he knew Jack couldn't see him. For all he knew, Riley hated fishing, but Mac knew that this fishing trip wasn't about actual fishing. He knew Jack was hoping it would be a distraction for him and he was willing to go with it. "I think she'd like it."

"Okay then," Jack agreed. "I'll give her a call. You go get ready, Mac."

"On it." Mac hung up then pushed off the couch to his feet. He stopped at the fridge for a glass of orange juice, which he took into the bathroom with him. He was showered and dressed and waiting for Jack when he pulled up with Riley in the passenger seat.

She grinned at Mac as he slid into the back seat. "So are you boys ready for me to kick your collective butts at fishing?"

Jack frowned at her. "Fishing is not a competitive sport, Riley."

"That's what you think," she shot back, looking smug. "Loser buys dinner."

"We're cooking fish for dinner," Jack protested, which set him and Riley off on each other.

Mac settled into the back seat, smiling to himself as he listened to them bicker. After a time he let his eyes drift closed. He could catch a good nap on the two hour drive to the lake. Because once they got there, he totally intended to win the fish off.

THE END