Jack's only been sitting here alone for about five minutes. But that's five minutes too long in his opinion.

They can come find him for whatever discharge instructions there might be. He's not expecting much. Rest, ice, Tylenol as needed, resume activity as tolerated. He's remarkably unscathed for being inside what was essentially a tank that flipped. And it's not like he hasn't heard it all before. He's more interested in what's become of his partner since their arrival at medical. Two trips in one day, Mac'll be lucky if they let him just scoot out this time. They get funny around here about things like that.

Baseball gives you three strikes before they call you out.

Not that Jack won't back them if they decide that Mac needs to stay. Sometimes Mac needs help to make those decisions when it comes to his own health, and that's where Jack comes in.

It's not that Mac is purposefully reckless. Somewhere along the way, he developed a warped sense of his own value. It's this save the world at any cost mindset that gets him in trouble. Jack has to remind him once in a while that the world's only worth saving if Mac is in it.

It's not that he's even a difficult patient. There are probably some unresolved, underlying issues, stemming from watching his mother waste away in a hospital bed when he was five years old, that have taken root in that brain of his that make him understandably jumpy about anything medical.

He's hoping they'll just let him take Mac home for those warm beers that he was promised hours ago. The kid seemed mostly upright and coherent after the crash. At least, not any worse off than he was from the jetlag and whatever drug Murdoc pumped into him. What Mac really needs, what they both need, is to go home, forget about Murdoc and forget about the last forty-eight hours.

Jack enters the room next door. He was paying attention when they were separated, each pulled into their own exam room for a check up, and knows this is the room he saw them sequester Mac into, but the bed is empty. Jack frowns. Probably went for a CT scan, he reasons. He tries to tamp down his overactive imagination, but today has left him primed for envisioning worst case scenarios.

He's just about to track down the nearest medic to find out where they're hiding his partner when the door opens and Mac enters under his own power.

"I'm good," Mac says quietly, brushing off Jack's hands that immediately reach out for him. Mac's eyes half closed against the harsh overhead lights. He's been squinting since they found him. The cocktails of drugs still dilating his pupils and making everything too bright. All his senses seem like they're on high alert; he's flinching at every loud sound, and Jack's noticed him swallowing convulsively at even mild odors. Medical cleared him earlier, sort of, to continue the hunt for Murdoc, but they wanted him to check in before he went home for the day. This probably wasn't what they had in mind.

Jack knows his boy's been plagued with a headache all day, not that he's let that stop him. If Jack didn't know him so well, he probably wouldn't even notice that it slowed him down. But Jack can read him better than anybody, sometimes even knows what Mac's thinking before Mac does. He can tell that Mac's been struggling today. For a number of reasons.

He also knows Mac hasn't eaten anything since, well, definitely not since his escape. And from the phone messages, Jack recognizes he was probably too upset and guilty to eat since their fight in Paris. For all that he rails on Mac for being too skinny, the kid's got a good appetite. Unless he's upset about something. Guilt quickly puts him off food.

Jack is feeling pretty guilty too. There are too many what ifs. Too many if onlys. And today was saved based on luck and Murdoc's penchant to play games. Jack should have stuck around and continued tailing Mac in Paris. He shouldn't have sent Mac's calls to voice mail. He should have headed over to the house as soon as he listened to the first message. But Jack's feeling were hurt, and he was feeling petty. He'd wanted to let Mac stew a little bit.

He knows Mac is distracted enough by the search for his dad. He's pretty sure adding their fight to the mix allowed Murdoc to get the jump on him. Jack's not going to be able to let that go for a long time. Mac is in for some pretty spectacular helicopter parenting in the coming weeks.

Mac lowers himself into a chair.

"Pretty sure they want you on the bed, pal."

Mac isn't vocal, but he lets Jack know what he thinks about that idea loud and clear.

"No need to be rude." Jack leans against the counter, studying Mac. He looks about as tired as Jack's ever seen him, and Jack's seen him on fourteen hour days disarming IEDs in a warzone, and running for their lives through a jungle. The kid looks beat.

Jack is beginning to regret his insistence that Mac start searching for his father. It's not the first time that thought has crossed his mind recently. Mac had been reluctant, for years, to make any attempts. Brushing off Jack's well meaning concern. Sometimes just letting Jack talk himself out. Sometimes arguing with him. In six years, it's never gotten past the talking point. It surprised Jack when Mac finally decided to try to reach out. And for as hard as he pushed Mac to find his dad, something uncomfortable coiled in his belly when Mac finally started looking.

Jack tries not to examine his feelings too carefully, unsure of what he'll find there. It's always been so important to Jack that Mac try to find and make amends with his dad. Surprisingly important to him. Jack think it's because of his own relationship with his pop. Because of the years they were estranged; how much that wore on him, and how he almost lost any chance to make things right. A son needs his father. He couldn't understand why Mac didn't feel the same way.

"Jack, can you hit the lights?" Mac asks, breaking Jack from his reverie. Mac's headache must be bothering, the hand he's resting his head on is covering his eyes. Jack's a little surprised that Mac would admit to being uncomfortable. Jack snaps off the light switch. The room isn't dark by any means, but Mac breaths a sigh of relief.

"You sure you don't want to lay down?"

It looks like Mac is considering it for a moment before he declines. "I just want to go home." He looks like such a kid. The shorter hair he's been sporting lately makes him look even younger, and Jack mind is suddenly filled with visions of a real kiddo Mac. What kind of man, what kind of monster, can walk away from a kid, especially one like Mac. Jack could never walk away from him.

And right here, in a medical exam room, as Mac rests in a chair, hand still covering his eyes, Jack has an epiphany. He realizes why it's important to him that they find Mac's dad. He thought it was to give Mac the same resolution he got with his old man, but that's a lie because the situations are so different. He thought it was to give Mac closure, one way or the other. And that's closer to the truth.

It's selfishness, on Jack's part. Jack needs closure. Jack needs them to find James MacGyver. Either Big Mac will meet Little Mac and decide that he's been a idiot for the last seventeen years, and gave up the best thing that ever happened to him and try to make things right with his son. And Jack will be happy for his partner. He will, he tries to convince himself.

Or maybe, if Jack is very lucky, Mac's daddy is the bad guy that they've each secretly worried he's been all along, and Mac can severe whatever ties are still holding them together. And Jack can slide into the role that's been his for the last six years. That was always meant to be his.

It's not possible for him to love this kid any more than he already does. Every decision Jack's made in these last six years has been for Mac. He called it a job back in Paris. It's easier if he doesn't acknowledge that it's so much more than a job. It's always been more than a job.

And maybe that's why the words hurt when Mac told him that just because he couldn't find his father didn't mean he needed Jack to helicopter parent. Maybe that's why he let Mac run him off, when any other time he would have told Mac off and stuck around anyway. And maybe that's why this search is driving a wedge between them, because he feels like he's losing Mac already, as Mac is becoming more and more obsessed with finding James.

"Should have known I'd find you here," Reese says, eyeing Jack as she walks into the room.

Jack shrugs as he's suddenly pulled away from his spiraling thoughts from the second time in minutes.

"How you doing, Mac?" She asks as she pulls a stool over to sit next to him.

Mac opens one eye and peaks around his hand. "If I answer honestly, are you going to make me stay?"

"He's got a headache," Jack answers. He's willing to risk glares from Mac to make sure that his medical team has a complete picture before they release him.

"I've had a headache, this isn't new," Mac argues.

Jack crosses his arms, and eyes Mac evenly. "You have a concussion?"

Mac sighs. "Maybe."

"I don't," Jack gloats.

"I think," Reese interrupts. "As long as we find someone who's willing to keep an eye on you and make sure you come back if there are any changes going on in your brain, we can let you get out of here." She says, her tone light and teasing. In her experience there's never any doubt that if Jack is medically able, he will keep an eye on Mac. And they've offered to keep mutual eyes on each other even when neither was physically well enough to do so.

"Oh," Mac says slowly. His eyes flash across the room to Jack, as if he's not sure what the answer will be. As if he's worried after all this that Jack is still angry with him.

"Like I said before we were so rudely blown up, you might just have to learn to put up with some helicopter parenting," Jack answers, his gaze never faltering from the younger man.

Mac looks surprised at Jack's willingness to take care of him. And that hurts Jack's heart. It's probably the concussion, maybe the after effects of the drugs and the fact that Mac's got an overworked sense of guilt, but Jack's conscience pricks him and tells him maybe it's because he walked away from the kid in Paris when he's spent years saying he never would, and actions speak louder. Especially when the kid's been abandoned before.

Reese glances back and forth between the men, unsure of what's going on, but recognizing that Phoenix Med is not the place for them to try to work it out. "Okay, Mac, you know the drill. Rest. No screen time. Tylenol, not ibuprofen or aspirin, for you headache. And get back here if the nausea continues or you start vomiting, your blurry vision gets worse," she turns to Jack continuing her instructions, "if he's dizzy, he's having memory problems or trouble thinking."

"His thinking's been a little off for a while now," Jack mumbles, half under his breath.

"Jack, do you have concerns..." Reese begins.

"No, concussion protocol, I got that down," Jack says walking over to Mac. "Come on kid, let's bounce. There are not any warm beers waiting for us."

"You do know you make my job so much harder, right Dalton?" Reese asks, raising an eyebrow at him.

"What? I'm taking your only patient home, and I said there aren't any beers waiting for us."

Despite Jack's encouragement to get some rest, Mac heads out to the deck when they get back to the house. Jack putters in the kitchen, making toast. He insisted that Mac try to eat something and that's the only thing he can get Mac to agree to. True to what he promised Reese, neither one of them is having a beer. Mac's not the only person Jack likes to purposefully frustrated. For being a covert operations agency, it's surprisingly easy to annoy and irritate just about everyone who works there. Jack firmly believes all employees of the Phoenix need a better vacation time package.

Mac is drowsing when Jack makes it outside. He has a momentary debate, then nudges Mac's shoulder to wake him. The kid is too skinny as it is. He doesn't need to miss more meals.

Jack holds out the plate, then pulls it back when Mac starts to reach for it. "What the atomic number of plutonium?"

"Would you know if I told you the wrong one?"

Jack frowns and hands over the toast. "I could google it."

"I think you're supposed to ask questions you already know the answer to," Mac says, nibbling on the toast.

"Asking the same questions all the time gets boring," Jack complains, pulling his chair close to Mac and sitting down. "Guess that means we get too many concussions."

"Thanks for keeping an eye on me," Mac says, staring at his toast. "You didn't have to."

Jack lets out a long breath. "You know, you say things like that and it gets me worried that I need to take you back in and get your head looked at again."

Mac looks up quickly, his expression confused as he reviews what he just said.

"This is what family does, Mac," Jack says. "Sometimes we might fight over stupid things, but we look out for each other, take care of each other. For such a big brain you sure are forgetful." Despite years of reassurances, it seems like Jack can't get that idea to stick.

A small smile plays on Mac's lips at Jack's words. "Maybe its all those concussions."

"Oh yeah," Jack grumbles. "That's what I need to hear, that you've got some sort of permanent brain damage from all the knocks to your noggin'. You keep teasing me like that and you better be prepared to put up with a whole lot of helicopter parenting for a while."

"For a while?" Mac snorts. "You've been perfecting that helicopter parenting routine since I met you."

"Get used to it. You're stuck with me, kid."

"Promise?" Mac asks quietly. He looks over at Jack, his gaze so earnest, hopeful, then his gaze drops back to the plate of toast in his lap.

Jack feels as though the world suddenly stopped spinning. His mind is racing, like everything hinging on this moment and how he answers this question. It's not often that Mac initiates this kind of intimate conversation, usually relying on Jack to do most of the heavy emotional lifting.

"Thinking that I lost you today, it shook me pretty good. I don't even want to imagine my life without you in it. You're my family, Mac. Family is everything." Jack slides his hand across Mac's shoulders, and gently squeezes the back of his neck.

Mac's hand twitch, they way they do when his brain is chewing on a particularly big question. His fingers peeling the crust from his toast, and crumbling the bread.

"You're supposed to be giving your brain a break. What are you thinking about so hard over there?"

"I'm thinking about taking a break," Mac says, suddenly. Jack raises an eyebrow in confusion and Mac continues. "From the search. For my dad."

Jack nods slowly. "It's your call, man."

Mac looks surprised, as if he's expecting more of a fight from Jack. "Really?"

"It's always been your call, Mac," Jack says.

Mac raises an eyebrow. "What happened to 'you gotta make things right with your dad, hoss, before you lose that chance'?" Mac drawled in an over the top Texas accent.

Jack shakes his head with bemused smirk. "You're lucky your head's already rattled, otherwise I'd kick your skinny butt for mocking me." Jack takes a deep breath. "Look, when I started this, I just wanted you to have some answers. I wanted you to have the opportunity to ask the questions. I didn't want you to miss out on that chance."

"If he wanted to know me... it's not like I'm hard to find."

"Just ask the closest supervillain for a map."

Mac side eyed Jack.

"It's his loss man. I know he's probably a smart guy cause he's your dad and all, but missing out on knowing you, that makes him pretty dumb in my book." Jack says, leaning close.

Mac chews thoughtfully on his toast. "Family is everything..." Mac says slowly, quoting Jack's earlier words.

"There are a lot of ways to define family though, bud. Sometimes its blood. But sometimes you get real lucky, and you get to choose your own family. Sometimes its a former Delta operator, an ex-bomb nerd, his best friend, a hacker and their scary boss."