Mac's head bounced lightly against the passenger window of the Humvee, Dalton behind the wheel. Mac had disarmed the IED before being unceremoniously hauled back the vehicle, and told in no uncertain terms to get his ass inside. Deciding, for once, that picking a fight with his overwatch was not the way to go, Mac packed up his gear and clambered into the passenger seat. Dalton climbed in a minute after the EOD tech, wordlessly starting the Humvee and driving away.

They'd been out of the village for about fifteen minutes before Mac lifted his head from the window and turned to stare at his overwatch like Jack was a particular tricky puzzle his grandpa Harry had given him to solve. The thing is, Mac just couldn't figure Jack Dalton out. He thought he knew everything he needed to know after Dalton had punched him in the face back on Day One. He'd dealt with those type of people – people who spoke first with violence and words only when they couldn't get away with violence – all his life and figured sixty-four days would be easy compared to twenty years. If he could survive Donny in high school, he could deal with Jack Dalton.

Then, Dalton had proved him wrong. It was, admittedly Mac's fault for wandering off without his cover (but he had known there was an IED in the village, and he hadn't been wrong. He couldn't have left and let someone die because he didn't do his job. He couldn't be responsible for another Pena, he couldn't hecouldn'thecouldn'thecouldn't-) and he never actually expected Dalton to follow him. People left all the time; his mom, his dad, his grandpa, and Al. People didn't come back, especially not for Mac.

They certainly didn't follow him into danger and save him.

"I got something on my face, Carl's Junior?" Dalton asked with a hard side eye, grip on the wheel tightening. Mac turned his head to stare out the windshield, feeling his face start to flush in embarrassment. His fingers tapped along his legs subconsciously, always in motion when he was working through a problem.

"No," Mac said, "Just...sorry. And thanks."

"Sorry," Dalton repeated flatly.

"Yeah, for uh, for..." Mac trailed off, uncertain. He knew what he wanted to apologize for – for putting Dalton in danger by going off on his own – but he wasn't sure how to say it. He was sorry Dalton had to chase after him, but Mac wasn't sorry for going to search for the bomb. So, Mac was unsure how to apologize for walking off without...apologizing for walking off.

Bozer was right, Mac needed to read a book and take a class on how to interact with people other than Bozer. Mac was really, really bad at it.

"Oh, yeah, real sincere apology there hoss," Dalton deadpanned, mouth thinning further and fingers growing impossibly tighter.

Mac made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat, "I mean it! I didn't think those guys would be there and I thought you were heading back anyway! I'm sorry for putting you in danger and causing you trouble!" Mac's fingers stopped tapping and tightened into fists, mirroring the frustration he could feel bubbling up in his chest.

Dalton twitched and for a second Mac thought he was going to stop the Humvee and start another fight. Mac felt his muscles tighten as he unthinkingly leaned further away from Dalton.

Dalton let out a long breath from his nose and loosened his grip on the wheel (almost as if Dalton was responding to Mac's readiness, the man calmed himself. Mac felt a bit more at ease, though still confused and on edge.).

(One day, the thought that Mac was ever afraid of him will break his heart).

"I'm not angry because you made trouble for me," Dalton said with a sarcastic emphasis on trouble, "I'm pissed because you put yourself in danger."

Mac stared at Dalton, brow furrowed. Without quite realizing it, Mac started tapping his fingers against his legs again – down the length of his thigh almost mimicking solving a math problem – while he tried to puzzle out Dalton's words.

Okay, sure. What Mac did was stupid and could have gotten both of them killed (though he had thought when calculating the odds that the only one walking back into the village was him, and by the time Mac found the bomb he thought Dalton was already on his way back to base, and therefore the only danger was to Mac himself and the civilians who could get hurt if he didn't disarm the bomb).

It was a calculated risk to Mac; why did Dalton care?

Dalton glanced at Mac out of the corner of his eye again and frowned. "Will you quit staring at me like some kind of damn puzzle you're trying to solve? This ain't complicated."

Mac's fingers stilled, and his shoulders hunched. He doesn't understand. He hated not understanding and usually he was a fast learner, but he just. He could't. He didn't understand.

"It shouldn't be!" Mac snapped back, "I knew there was a bomb and I couldn't leave until I found it – I thought you were leaving! Why does it matter?"

"Why does it matter!?" Dalton snarled back, "Why does it matter? Are you asking why the danger matters, or are you asking why you matter, because kid there is an important difference there."

"What are you talking about?"

"What am I talking about? What the hell are you talkingabout?" Dalton answered, "Who the hell hurt you to make this so hard for you to understand?" he asked a bit sarcastically

Mac jerked back, almost as if he'd been physically struck. Nobody had ever – why would Dalton -

(There are some things that Mac had accepted as absolute truths. First: everyone leaves, and they don't come back. Second: Danger to others is unacceptable, but danger to Mac is. Third: the only person who will help Mac, is Mac.

Dalton let another frustrated breath out. "Look kid, we're in this together. As long as I'm your overwatch, I'm your partner. We gotta watch each other's backs. That means we don't go lookin' for more trouble than the job requires. You got me, MacGyver?"

Mac, still reeling, shot back, "You only have thirty-two days left on your tour,"

"Yup," Dalton answered, "And it's my job to keep you alive for all of them. Even when I think you're being a complete dumbass."

The silence after that statement settled on the cabin of the vehicle, Mac wide eyed and silent, fingers still.

Mac did't know what, exactly, to make of everything Dalton had said. But…

"Watch each other's backs, huh?"

"Yup. Means you gotta stop lookin' for trouble, and gotta at the very least, trust me to do my job like I trust you to do yours. So again, you got me, MacGyver?" Dalton asked, peering at Mac over his shades.

Mac, hands pressed against his thighs, looked back.

"Yeah, Dalton," he answered, mouth lifting in a half smile, "I got you."

My first MacGyver fic! I'm so excited to share this with you guys. Its the first fic in a series of pre-series fics called These Fragile Things We Build. Special thanks to my sister Mea for all her work as my beta.

Thank you guys, and I hope you enjoyed this fic!

You can find me on Tumblr as dannilea, I'm also on AO3 as Danni_Lea.