Archive of Our Own

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Burn the ships, cut the ties
Send a flare into the night
Say a prayer, turn the tide
Dry your tears and wave goodbye
Step into a new day
We can rise up from the dust and walk away
We can dance upon our heartache, yeah
So light a match, leave the past, burn the ships
And don't you look back

(Burn the Ships by For King & Country)
The mission, albeit somewhat messy and hazardous, still had the potential to be considered successful in the eyes of one Matilda Webber. Several prominent Ukrainian terrorists had been apprehended, and the improvised explosive device neutralized before it could harm innocent civilians, let alone trained covert government spies. In the minds of the Phoenix Foundation, once the Department of External Services, it was all in a day's work as an off-the-books United States spy agency.Most days went by without a hitch. Covering as a Think Tank on the outskirts of Los Angeles, the Phoenix Foundation prided itself on maintaining pace with the technological world, proving to exceed the mantra finding unusual solutions to unusual problems.Matilda, who asked everyone to call her Matty, held a most prestigious position at the Phoenix Foundation: Director. Director of – what, exactly? Was the question most often asked by individuals who were not aware of the secret part of her top position. Director of Operations, managing whatever the Think Tank was focused on at any given moment. Those who did know about the undercover nature understood that Matilda Webber had power – and a lot of it. She was Director of Field Operations. It meant she managed ten teams operating outside of the United States on deep undercover missions and two local teams. She intercepted calls from the Secretary of State and head of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, knew the Director of the Central Intelligence Agency personally, and flirted with danger on the butt-end of nasty calls from the National Security Agency. To say she wasn’t a fierce lady would be an understatement. Matty Webber took her job seriously and to the fullest extent possible. She commanded the utmost respect, even with her small stature warring against her in a world of tall and gangly men. Today was no different from the last or even the next.One local team had been deployed to Ukraine to reign in the terrorists and disarm the IED. The local team was comprised of an Army Sergeant gallivanting with a past in Delta Force, the CIA, and one of the best sniper records in the world, a talented rogue computer hacker with a checkered history, a film director wannabe turned spy, and a genius intellectual Army EOD Specialist with talent beyond his young features. Today the team was assembling in the War Room to debrief after the begrudgingly successful mission. Honestly, it should have failed miserably, and at least one of her agents should be dead, but Matty would be a fool to say it out loud. Horses and hand grenades, or so Mr. Delta Force would gripe.Matty stood at the front of the rectangular room with a severe look on her face. She gave each agent a glance-over as they filed one by one into the room. Ten days away from home could do a number on any individual or team, but when she saw the relaxed tone of her four agents, she knew they were the exception. And above all else, they had become her family – Sergeant Jack Wyatt Dalton, Riley Davis, Agent Wilt Bozer, and Specialist Angus Jackson MacGyver. She was glad they had returned home safe and sound after facing a multitude of obstacles that had threatened their very livelihood.Wilt Bozer, most often going by the name of Bozer or Boze, collapsed into the seat furthest from but still facing where his boss stood, his face a mixture of exhaustion and relief. The trip home had allowed for fitful sleep at best – too much going through his mind to even try to rest for long periods. The team may have been successful in completing their assigned mission, but there had been setback after setback, not including the added emotional and physical pain. Bozer still sported a good-sized nob to his right temple from the butt of a rifle, even though the pain had long subsided, the concussion mild. The most significant pain, far more damaging to his psyche than his physical form, had been watching his best friend Mac allow himself to be taken hostage for twenty-six hours, thirty-five minutes, and thirty-six seconds. Dalton had been incessantly keeping track of the time. There had been limited communication during the entire fiasco, so when Mac was finally rescued, he'd been a little worse for wear. Oddly enough, no penetrating wounds, excessive bleeding, or even one scratch. Just bruise after bruise, many freshly sprouting on top of the ever-growing excess of old bruising. However, the end goal was quickly obtained after his rescue – the IED neutralized and the terrorists rounded up for a one-way ticket to prison.Now they were back in the States, preparing for yet another debrief. It was all routine. Typical covert operations style. Dalton had gotten his right wrist examined and splinted before leaving Ukrainian airspace, Mac a slipped dose of pain medication, and Bozer got his own lollipop for being such a good patient in comparison to his comrades. No one came away from the mission with any lasting, damaging injuries, and everyone got to walk onto the plane under their own steam.Tapping the glass window beside the only door leading into the War Room, Riley Davis activated the frosted glass at the beckoning of their fearless leader. The door slipped shut with a soft thud, the magnetic lock instantly catching. No one would disturb the group while they debriefed. Dropping her backpack on the ground, Riley settled into a relaxed upward posture against the far wall in the straight back of the room. She'd been sitting long enough in the past ten days, from the plane that carried them to the mission, the uncomfortable chair she’d been relegated to in the truck with Ukrainian Special Forces and other computer specialists while on the mission, and of course the plane ride back to Los Angeles after the mission. Arms folded over her chest, Riley focused her attention on Matty, waiting patiently.A permanent scowl was transfixed on Jack Dalton’s face, his eyes sending daggers at whoever dared challenge him with even the simplest of glances. He took his usual place standing near the front of the room, hovering over the chair where his partner had parked his own exhausted body. Jack was tired, hungry, fighting numbness and tingling in his right hand, and in desperate need of a shower. More importantly, he was downright angry with how the mission had unfolded. They all knew the risks of the job, even expected danger at the best of times. But to listen to your partner argue about the plan and then blatantly defy orders (typical response) just to willingly walk into enemy hands to get a good look at the plans for the explosive device they had been sent to recon and dismantle? Delta Dalton had come out in a matter of milliseconds, spouting off every curse word in the book, a few in recognizable and unrecognizable languages. Hell broke loose with communications at the most crucial of moments and by the time Jack had comms revived and Mac back in his line of sight, the sour mood got even acrider. The kid had just about gotten himself pummeled to pieces, and the IED had still been in play. It had taken another day to find the IED and finally disarm it for good. The lasting damage seemed to be a handprint-shaped bruise glared purple and red from Mac’s left wrist, the area too sensitive to wear his usual watch. Mac would never say such, not even to Jack, but Jack had a knack for reading Angus MacGyver. They had been by each other’s side for just over seven years. Jack could read Mac like an open book – for the most part.The room was silent, waiting for the boss to open up discussion. She glanced back at her most prized agent and cleared her throat. “Welcome back, team. I would say good work,” Matty’s face morphing into exasperated disappointment, “but that was a messy clean-up if I ever saw one. Next time, don’t willingly walk into enemy hands, is that clear, Blondie?”Before Mac could defend himself, Jack butted in with a gruffness to his voice. "I told him – demanded him – not to do it!”“It worked, didn’t it?” Mac turned his head long enough to give Jack the ‘I’m not a child!’ face.Matty sighed, already tired of the infighting. “You,” she pointed at Mac, eyes flashing with a warning, “were instructed to stand down and wait. We’ve also discussed on numerous occasions that you don't get to improvise on the whim in situations like that. Because that wasn't improvising, that was dumb foolery, and you are fortunate to have walked away with only bruises. And Jack," she moved her finger to shake it at him, her eyes lasers, "don't think you're out of the doghouse. I have the transcripts of that conversation. You weren't obeying my orders. And then you got hurt in the process. Don’t make me bench both of you!”Jack huffed, lips thinning into an invisible line. He defiantly crossed his arms over the chest, frustration building. "We had to get the location of the IED,” Mac protested. “What did you want me to do?”Matty threw her hands up in defeat.Bozer tried to mutter under his breath, but the whole room heard him. “Maybe not get so righteously banged up that Riley could probably identify the terrorist that left that handprint bruise on your wrist?”  Mac’s face was the picture of indignation, left eyebrow raised while his brow knitted forward, eyes squinting in an almost comical question mark at Bozer’s remark. “There is no way –““ENOUGH!” Matty yelled, glaring at her blond genius. “It is not up for discussion on how Mac obtained the bruise or from whom. We have a debrief to complete." She turned her back to them, fingers stabbing into the large touchscreen at the front of the room. A file with the name Ukrainian Special Forces popped up on the screen, her fingers working smoothly to find the correct document to open.Mac sighed, running a hand through his hair. He needed a shower, and preferably a good long run up the hills near his home before that shower. It had been almost two weeks since his last long run, even though he was feeling a touch more tired than usual. The run would help work out the kinks in his muscles and the bone-deep ache. This hadn't been the first long op across seas. Except, maybe Bozer wasn’t wrong about the bruising – the handprint bruise could almost be traced back to its owner, it had been that tight of a squeeze. Plus the other numerous bruises littering Mac’s body that ached with movement, even occasionally at rest. If he didn’t know any better, he would look at himself and think he was hazard-prone. Maybe he was coming down with something, like the flu. His physical check-up from the physician in Ukraine had been fine – well, fine with what Mac had admitted to when asked. He felt okay physically, nothing hurt more than an ache. Why should anyone worry?Turning his attention back to the now-pulled up document on the front screen, Mac absently ran a finger under his nose after feeling a slight tickle. He didn’t think anything of it as Matty started to question Riley about the computer side of the op. But his mind was abruptly distracted when the tickle got stronger after the fact, and something seemed to drip from his nostril. He reached up and wiped at his nose, his finger coming away from his face with a drop of blood. What?Bozer, having a fair view of his best friend's face, expressions and all, was the first to notice the look of confusion on Mac's face. And the red drop on an index finger. Which quickly evolved into a stream of red coming from Mac's left nostril. He was up out of his chair instantaneously, concern and confusion written all over his own face.“Mac, you feeling okay?”Mac's frown deepened even further. "I – I don't know." He had never had a spontaneous nosebleed in his life. The key word was spontaneous. Twisting her small body at the hips to peer back at her agents, frustration apparent on her already-flustered face, Matty saw Bozer drop to his knees by Mac’s chair, a handkerchief appearing and pressing to Mac’s nose.“Okay, what is going on?” She turned fully, back to the screen, hands planted firmly on her hips.Riley had noticed the blood and pushed off from the wall, concern written on her face. It didn’t match the anxiety that overrode all anger on Jack’s face, his feet quickly stepping around the chair to face his partner. Worry had crawled into his brain when Bozer all but abandoned his chair.The handkerchief seemed to soak through in a matter of seconds. Mac took over holding it against his nose, the taste of iron at the back of his tongue. When he pulled the cloth away after about a minute, Mac could tell his other nostril had started to spontaneously bleed, adding to the blood-soaked cloth. Um, something is not right.“Nosebleed?!” Jack spoke incredulously. “You’ve never had a nosebleed!”Matty’s eyes quickly took stock of the situation, irritation fading away to marked concern. She let her hands drop to her side, a sigh escaping her lips. “You should probably go to the infirmary.”Riley had managed to find an old package of tissues in her backpack, fingers unwrapping the fine, soft paper and handing a couple to her brother. He shrugged at Matty while stuffing tissue up each nostril. "It's nothing, Matty. Just a nosebleed.”Her finger immediately pointed to the door. “Infirmary, now.”There was no way to avoid the wrath of Matty the Hun. If your boss told you to skedaddle to the infirmary to be seen by the in-house physician, then you got your ass in gear and went. And it was only because she was giving him a pointed stare that would have made a charging rhinoceros turn around and flee in terror. She let it bore into him for a few seconds, silently yelling at him to do what she said.Sighing, Mac lifted his hands up in defeat, blood tinging a couple of his fingertips. “Okay, okay, you win. I’m going to the infirmary.” His voice was slightly muffled by the tissues, even as the white turned bright red.The smirk was small but mighty. "Good, Blondie. We weren't getting anywhere with this debrief anyway, so once you've been patched up by Nurse Jackie, come back, and we'll start over." She turned slightly towards Jack, giving him her full attention. "Accompany him, so he doesn't stray out the front door."Jack’s nodded without as much as a peep from his mouth, an arm reaching out to help Mac stand. It went almost unnoticed, but Jack saw the slight imbalance, the unsteadiness to the gait, as Mac got up under his own feet and took off out of the War Room under his own steam.No one called him out on it if they noticed. Mac would be forever grateful for silent family.Once Mac and Jack were gone, Matty turned her attention to Riley and Bozer, her face aging beyond her years. “Seeing as this debrief has been postponed, both of you may head to the lab. Jill requested both of your expertise in the lab. I’ll call you back when they’ve patched up Baby Einstein. Shouldn’t be too long.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Prepare for the worst
Hope for the best
Won't you steady my heart
For whatever comes next?

(Need You More by For King & Country)
 The Phoenix Foundation doubled as a contemporary think-tank and a covert government agency that no one actually knew existed (except for the individual’s privy to knowledge of such an off-the-books agency). The office building looked like any other around it – five stories tall, glistening windows, and regular foot traffic. There was a parking garage to the east, while the grounds boasted a substantially-sized athletic yard to the south, complete with two tennis courts, an Olympic-sized swimming pool, and miniature golf. Those who worked at the think-tank worked hard, but also played hard.When a visitor walked in the front doors, they were greeted by a sprawling front entryway, complete with security and a welcome desk. The ground floor at face value looked like any other ordinary office building: winding hallways, offices, and the occasional break room. A bank of elevators near the front entryway only went up, covering the four upper floors comprised of think-tank lab work, human resources on the 3rd floor, rows of offices and conference rooms, and whatever else was deemed necessary for a contemporary think-tank.But set back from prying eyes was another world entirely: a centralized computer room situated very near the command center of the entire covert agency operation, the War Room. From that point on, everything was top secret and for private eyes only. A bank of elevators that just went down hit nine subfloors, all with specific functions. The armory, tactical, training center, research and specialty labs, cold storage, the infirmary, and other pertinent tasks for an unnamed government agency.The Phoenix infirmary was on sublevel one, with quick access to the hidden loading dock. The infirmary could run blood work, stitch up wounds, take x-rays, patch up bullet wounds and frostbite, administer blood products, and triage agents, but there was a limit to what the infirmary could manage. About seven miles away was Phoenix Medical, another unmarked building that could actually manage more severe and critical patients for more extended periods. However, it was set-up for trauma and infectious conditions, which were more common and of concern when working with an off-the-books government agency.As MacGyver and Dalton stepped off the elevator, they passed through the comparatively small external waiting room. Five uncomfortable chairs and a small coffee table loaded with magazines, random books, and napkins sat off to the left side of the wide open area. Two vending machines and a mediocre coffee machine were sequestered to the left side of the room. Directly across from the elevators were two automatic doors, locked at all times – whether to keep unwelcome visitors out or to keep unruly patients in, no one could be sure.The doors clicked and immediately swung open as the locking mechanism came undone, the medical staff inside the waiting infirmary bay expecting their arrival. It didn’t surprise Mac in the least – Matty probably called them as soon as Jack and he had left the War Room. Or the surveillance cameras had seen their presence exiting the elevator, and a nurse assumed one of them needed medical care. The now-blood red tissues coming from Mac's nose certainly sparked curiosity and concern.Mac’s pacing slowed as the pair neared the front nurse’s station. Thankfully, there was no actual Nurse Jackie who worked in the infirmary, or even at Phoenix Medical; however, a couple of the nurses could be terrors if Mac didn’t obey their every command. Thankfully, none of them were on shift that morning.Clara Geyer, a certified Critical Care Registered Nurse, was already standing from her seat at the desk, a smile on her lips. She had taken care of Angus MacGyver more than a handful of times over the last eighteen months since she had become employed by the Phoenix Foundation. She double checked to make sure her computer station was locked and quickly stepped away from the desk, a box of tissues already in her open hands. “Mr. MacGyver. Mr. Dalton.” She had already seen the problem: Mac’s nose stuffed with saturated tissues, the red liquid slipping down his upper lip, trailing around his full lips, and coming dangerously close to dripping onto the floor. She passed the box of Kleenex to Mac in one smooth motion, simultaneously waving the pair to follow her down the hall to an exam room.Taking a handful of tissues, Mac removed the nearly-dripping tissues from his nose and shoved more up into his nostrils, his nose starting to feel irritated from the rough material. The standard tissues around the Phoenix weren’t terrible, but they weren’t the best either. To make matters even more interesting, Mac was pretty sure blood was now seeping down the back of his nose and into his throat, the tang of iron evident on the back of his tongue.The trio entered an exam room just off the central medical bay, Clara patting the gurney for Mac to take a seat. She gave her hands a quick clean with hand sanitizer and did quick work of donning the standard purple non-latex gloves. She had no interest in being exposed to any blood that shift. Like any exam room, the area was comfortably small, housing one visitor’s chair, a stool, the standard gurney with smartly executed folds at the edges of the sheet and mattress, a small sink set into a counter that held boxes of gloves and other medical items, and a cabinet above the sink for other useful medical supplies.Jack stood at the head of the gurney, arms folded over his chest, watching the nurse’s every move. Clara grabbed a handful of gauze from the cabinet above the sink in one hand, her other hand reaching for blood draw supplies to be utilized momentarily.Stepping in front of her now-seated patient, she carefully removed the newly placed tissues, clean gauze dabbing at the steady stream of blood flowing from both nostrils. “When did the nosebleed start?”     "About ten minutes ago," Mac said, coughing as he felt more blood in the back of his throat. The taste and sensation were going from irritating to aggravating pretty quickly. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Mac wondered if a human being could bleed out and die from a nosebleed alone. Well, if it doesn’t clot or stop, then there is that possibility."Any recent trauma to your nose? Punched in the face within the past couple of days? Just returned from a drier climate?" She knew his history well – never had a known nosebleed, even after multiple facial abrasions, one broken nose, too many concussions to count, and constant humidity changes as the career agent traveled from country to country in short periods.While waiting for his response, she expertly cleaned his bloody face with a small bottle of saline she had plucked off the counter, watching the newly placed gauze turn red almost instantly. With a gentle hand, Clara carefully tilted Mac's head back, a small penlight shining up into his right and then his left nostril. She was looking for any trauma or abnormalities that could explain the sudden onset of an unusual nosebleed. Other than blood splattering every membrane and interior nasal structure, nothing seemed out of place. She couldn't even tell where the bleeding had started.He shook his head minutely, trying not to disturb her assessment. He coughed once more, trying to clear the blood as it dripped down the back of his throat. With her assessment completed, Mac could finally answer her questions. “Nope. The last fist fight I was in was all aimed at my stomach. They did leave a scattering of bruises across my abdomen, back, and they left this beauty.” He lifted his left arm, nodding towards the gigantic handprint bruise, still an angry purple and red.Clara handed Mac more clean gauze and instructed him to hold it under his nose and not in his nose while applying pressure to the soft nasal structures to help try to clot the area bleeding. She also recommended he sit forward, to minimize blood dripping down his throat.She did a quick glance at his left arm, then his right arm, eyes tracking all visible skin, new and old bruising being stored up in her head for documentation and a thorough report to the attending physician on staff.“The bruising is concerning. Do you mind if I lift up your shirt to see you back, chest, and abdomen?”Mac shook his head, eyes glancing at Jack as Clara carefully unbuttoned her patient’s light blue dress shirt and slowly lifted up the white t-shirt underneath. She didn’t touch as she gave his abdomen and chest a thorough scan, hands and body moving slowly to the right to get a good look at Mac’s back. Purple, red, and yellow bruising scattered across multiple areas – front and back ribs, sternum, some prominently defined spinal bruising, a bruise that looked suspiciously like a fist at his right flank, and many small bursts of bruising to his left lower abdomen, center upper stomach, and right upper abdomen. Added to the handprint bruise on his left wrist, a few smaller bruises across his biceps on both arms, and a deep purple bruise on his right pinky finger, Clara made no assumptions about what was going on physiologically. It sounded like Mac had taken some hard hits recently, but the bruising wasn't all from fists and odd-end objects. She could only imagine that he had more bruising on his legs, possibly even wrapping around his hips and in his groin.“Damn it, Mac. What did those terrorists do to you?!” Jack gave Mac a piercing glare, his face in disbelief from the obvious extent of the bruising caused while in captivity. Mac had brushed off any concerned remarks while still focused on the mission, ignoring the multiple comments to seek medical attention. There wasn’t much a physician could do for bruises, and Mac had eventually been seen by a Ukrainian physician before heading back to the States once the op had been completed successfully. Everyone had been and apparently still was too worked up about his physical health.“I’m fine, Jack. They beat me up. Nothing new.”Jack would have snapped back at his partner, but Clara interrupted the pair’s banter, requesting permission to palpate Mac’s abdomen. She noted another abnormality of the abdomen, on top of the bruising. Mac shrugged in compliance, following her direction to lie down on the gurney, his hands still occupied with his bleeding nose. With his shirt pulled up, her eyes watched his left upper abdomen closely. It had a definite bulge that she hadn't seen the last time she had examined him eight weeks ago. All agents had routine physicals every six months, and everything had looked normal on his physical. The bruising was all very recent and fresh, even the almost-healed bruising. He was known to take a beating or two, but even this amount of bruising seemed suspicious.He coughed once again, swallowing down an even stronger taste of iron. Lying down had caused his nose to start to drip faster down his throat, and it tasted disgusting.“Almost done,” Clara assured him after a quick glove change, her hands gently palpating first his right lower abdomen, and moving clockwise. As she felt for any masses or organ enlargement, she asked if he had any pain or discomfort. He denied her inquiries with each quadrant, even when she noticed that his spleen was unquestionably enlarged in the left upper quadrant.Completing her focused assessment, Clara helped Mac sit up, the gauze saturated in red. She exchanged the old with new gauze, reminding him to hold gentle pressure. She washed her hands and slipped from the room, promising to return with Dr. Lawrence in a few short minutes.Jack huffed in frustration. “It’s just a nosebleed – right?”Mac shrugged, gingerly stretching his neck of a kink from the plane ride earlier that morning. “I don’t think she likes how much bruising I’ve acquired recently. But she’s the medical professional – you aren’t a trained nurse or doctor, Jack.” He gave Jack his own glare, Jack huffing again before finally sitting down in the nearby chair.The pair were silent for a few minutes. Mac coughed again from the post-nasal drip and the fact he could now only breathe appropriately through his mouth. Jack grabbed the trash can from the corner and handed it to Mac, allowing him to spit up bloody mucus. The iron taste was strong – pure blood. He hoped Dr. Lawrence and Clara could stem the bleeding – it was downright frustrating.A quick sharp rap of knuckles on the doorframe alerted both agents to a new visitor. Dr.  Lawrence strolled in, Clara coming in just behind the aging physician. At five-foot-nothing, Dr. Travis Lawrence was a commanding presence wherever he went. He was one of the newest additions to the Phoenix Foundation medical entourage, only hired two months before. He had a long career in emergency medicine at various departments across the United States at prestigious medical centers, held multiple faculty positions for Johns Hopkins and Harvard, and even was trained in the army and CIA for a brief stint back in the late seventies into the early eighties. He was smart, thoughtful, funny, and caring. Everyone who interacted with him felt at ease with his medical care.Dr. Lawrence sat on the rolling stool and dragged himself up to where Mac was seated, eyes peering over the edge of his rounded gold eyeglasses at his patient's current posture and condition. Clara set a bag of ice and extra medical supplies on the counter before turning her attention to preparing lab supplies for a blood draw.       “Well, Mac, I can clearly see the problem. Grade A epistaxis.”Mac nodded glumly, the gauze red once more in his blood-stained fingers. “I swear it wasn’t my fault, Doc.”Dr. Lawrence let out a quiet laugh, a small smile on his age-weathered face, dimples accentuated by frequent laughter. “It never is, Mac. It never is. With what Clara has told me, I’m going to order a couple of blood tests – a complete blood count and a peek at your clotting function. You’ve never had a nosebleed before, is that right?”“No, sir, I’ve never had a nosebleed before today. And this one happened spontaneously. I’m a little confused.” Mac gratefully accepted the bag of ice from Clara’s outstretched hand, smashing the cold against his nose. The cold and the pressure would help constrict any blood vessels and maybe stop the bleeding.“Understandable. I’m going to order a medicine called Afrin to help see if we can dry out your nose and stop the bleeding. We’ll keep some gauze in your nose for about four hours, and if we can’t stop the bleeding completely, we may resort to some nasal bullets for more direct pressure. I know you’ve been holding tissues and gauze to your nose for about twenty-five minutes now, and that timing alone must be frustrating. Let’s get you patched up as quickly as possible, is that good with you?”The young patient nodded. Dr. Lawrence stood, patted Mac’s shoulder, and left to put in orders. Clara was well aware of the plan of care as she carefully set up and drew two different colored tubes of blood from the crook of Mac’s arm. She exchanged his messy red gauze for new bright white gauze before she left to send the labs off down the hall and talk to the small pharmacy about getting the Afrin for his nose.Jack’s eyebrows were pinched in concern, watching Clara disappear from the exam room once more.Mac sighed, his gaze anywhere but on Jack's look of worry. His partner could be a helicopter-parent at the worst of times, and a mother-hen at the best of times. Mac wasn't even critically ill, and he could feel the penetrating stare of a far-too-concerned brother.“Okay, Jack. You have something to say. Say it.”Delta Dalton threw his hands up in defeat, back on his feet without a second thought. "I have a right to be anxious, don’t I?”Mac’s eyebrows shot up, eyes tracking his partner’s anxious pacing.“Jack – hold on. Why are you anxious?”Arm flung out haphazardly, Jack waved to the room they were sitting in as he walked himself in circles. “In all the years I’ve known you, you have never had a nosebleed. What if – what if those terrorists poisoned you?”If it weren’t for the bag of ice, gauze, and necessary utilization of both his hands in stopping the constant flow of blood, Mac would have tried to stifle his coming giggle. But it didn’t work that way – the laughter echoed throughout the small exam room, laughter quickly turning into a series of harsh coughs.Jack stopped dead in his tracks, hands quick to grip Mac’s shoulders, fear written all over his face.“You okay, bud?”Mac nodded his head, the coughs subsiding. The laughing had started an ache in his head, his nose already throbbing with pain. Maybe too much blood loss. I’ve gone insane. But really, Jack, poison? I mean, I guess it isn’t out of the realm of possibilities…Clara returned at that moment, two Tylenol and the bottle of Afrin nose spray in her hand. She made quick work of patching Mac up best she could, spraying the Afrin in his nose, gently packing clean gauze in both nostrils, and ordering him to pinch his nose for another ten minutes to help activate the medicine and help slow the bleeding. Mac obeyed, his left-hand pinching while his right accepted a glass of water to rinse his mouth out before taking the prescribed pain medication. He didn’t even need to ask for it – Clara just knew."Labs should be back in about ten minutes. At that point, Dr. Lawrence will probably send you off on your way once he sees everything looks okay. Maybe some mild blood loss, but your blood work looked perfect eight weeks ago. I wouldn't see a reason for it to be any different now." Clara cleared off the counter, neatly organizing the room and making sure Mac and Jack had everything they needed to be comfortable while waiting.She stepped to the door, the floor-to-ceiling curtain in her hand, ready to pull closed. “Can I do anything else for you boys while you wait?”Jack had eventually sat back in the chair, arms crossed over his chest in mock boredom. He threw Mac a glance but said nothing.Mac shook his head, his left hand still pinching his nose closed, mouth open like a fish out of water while his body leaned slightly forward on the gurney. He sat at the edge, looking somewhat older than his age. He was worn out. The nosebleed didn't help matters. Plus, breathing is hard when you are an obligate nose breather as a healthy twenty-eight-year-old human male, and you can't breathe out of your nose!The curtain slid closed, and Mac let out another long-suffering sigh. “What’s going on in that big brain of yours, Hoss?”The younger partner shrugged. “Just tired. I want to finish the debrief and get home. We ran ourselves ragged this last mission. And I can smell a new one brewing.”Jack let out an inhumane snort, eyes crinkling in laughter. “That was a terrible pun!”Mac reached over, playfully smacking Jack upside the head. But neither individual got the chance to retort, the curtain to the room being pushed open with no warning.Dr. Lawrence stepped into the room, Clara hovering just behind him with wide eyes of – worry, concern, fear?! Mac was quick to sit up straight, eyebrows furrowing in confusion."Mac, your blood work does not look good. You had your first spontaneous nose bleed because your platelet count is five thousand. Normal is between one hundred and fifty thousand and four hundred thousand. Bleeding from any orifice or fragile membrane can occur without warning when your platelet count is at ten thousand or below. You have a high risk of internal bleeding. You need a platelet transfusion, but more important is finding the cause of your low platelet count. However, because Phoenix Medical doesn't have the knowledge or the capacity to treat a suspected blood disorder, I'm going to send you out before I can perform any further interventions."Low platelets. Severely low platelets. “So – that all means what exactly?” Bruising, bleeding, aching – that’s not normal. Mac had the deer-in-headlights facial expression, cheeks turning even paler with the news of crushing defeat. “I’m going to send you to Ronald Reagan UCLA Medical Center. An ambulance will be pulling up to the loading dock within the next fifteen minutes. Dr. Aaron Kang is a colleague of mine that specializes in blood disorders. He will take over your case and do further investigation into your abnormal blood work.”Mac’s mind whirled with the new information. He could barely speak he was so taken back by the sudden change in plans. No debrief. Straight to an unfamiliar hospital, no passing go, no collecting $200. He blinked, trying to process his new predicament. Something is wrong. Was I – was I poisoned after all? But I don’t – I don’t understand. I’ve been feeling fine. Right? Normal aches and pains of the job. Tired. Bone pain. Headaches. Blurred vision. Nothing new.  When Mac didn't seem able to ask any further questions, Jack spoke up for them both, eyes wide with barely-concealed panic. "Now, hold on a second. Mac gets a say in this, doesn't he? He doesn't just get to go to some hospital that has never cared for him before today. Usually, he's able to get all his care here. What's the difference?!"Dr. Lawrence looked remarkably calm for someone delivering unexpected news. His voice was quiet as he spoke. “It isn’t just Mac’s platelets that are concerning. The rest of his complete blood count is abnormal, since it is completely different from the blood work obtained eight weeks ago. The white blood cell count was critically high at 55,200 when normal is generally below 11,000. You either have a raging infection, or you have a new-onset blood disorder. I am no expert in hematology. You need specialized care that the Phoenix cannot provide. All I know is that this is an emergency that cannot wait another day, let alone another hour.”Mac was still silent, eyes staring blankly at Dr. Lawrence. What – what’s wrong with me? What – what do I do? I don’t know what to do.Slowly coming back to the present, Mac glanced over at Jack. Jack looked about the same as Mac felt – denial, fear, worry, and panic wrapped up in a closed-off expression. He swallowed hard, his mind barely registering the taste of blood. “I-I-I – don’t understand. W-w-what is wrong with me?”Jack was standing at Mac's side instantly, the distinct tremble of fear and rising panic from his partner moving the Delta into a defensive position. "Hey now, we’ll find the answers.” Dear god, please don’t be poison. “I don’t know what’s wrong, Mac. That’s why I’m going to send you to the best physician I know who can find answers for you.” Dr. Lawrence put a firm, reassuring hand on Mac’s quacking shoulder. “You’ll find your answers. I promise.”Clara had disappeared shortly after Dr. Lawrence started talking about Mac’s blood counts, but she reappeared, a frown on her face. “The ambulance is here.”Panic flooded Mac’s eyes, his breathing coming in erratic, short puffs. “J-J-Jack, get my go bag from my locker.” He had a feeling the upcoming hospital stay was not going to be a quick in and out. He wasn’t going to be returning to his home that evening – Bozer. Riley. Matty. Dad. Crap, what do I tell them? What do I do?As if a switch had been flipped, Jack was back in command and ready to do whatever his partner needed. Nodding, he said, “Okay, Mac. I can grab it. I’ll be right back. I’m coming with you in the ambulance, okay? I’m not letting you go anywhere alone. I’m not letting you out of my sight!” The last part was yelled as Jack took off at a sprint down the hall.Neither medical professional protested as Jack disappeared down the hall, both understanding the common familial link between the Sergeant and the Specialist. There had been many a night at Phoenix Medical when either individual was in a hospital bed, the other nearby, taking watch. Why would they change habit now? Jack’s sole job at the Phoenix Foundation was to protect the team, and Mac was his team.No matter what happened, answers would be found. Dr. Lawrence had a feeling it wouldn’t be an easy journey to peace.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Oh I don't know / What's around the bend / Oh, all I know / Is that my love, It knows no end

(Forever On Your Side by Needtobreathe)
 Sleep was evading Jack like an enemy intent on keeping hidden. Wide open but unseeing eyes stared blankly at the white ceiling of an average hospital room. White, white, white everywhere. So boring. Granted, the room was far more spacious than a regular medical-surgical room, or even the rooms at Phoenix Medical, but that didn’t make the place any more welcoming. It was still a hospital, and Mac was always the object of constant attention.Jack’s mind was going a mile a minute, all the worst-case scenarios happening to Mac flickering by in constant repetition. The kid was nearby, restlessly trying to sleep in the standard hospital bed while Jack shifted silently in the uncomfortable, plastic recliner. If Mac were gonna be in the hospital longer than a couple of nights, he’d break down and accept the offer of a cot from the nursing staff, but tonight Jack wouldn’t be sleeping even with his prevailing exhaustion.  The ambulance trip that morning had been uneventful. Mac had acquiesced to the request to lay on the stretcher for the short ride to UCLA Medical Center, Jack sitting on the hard bench beside his best friend as the whining sirens signaled haste. The technicians had tried to prevent Jack from riding along to the hospital, but Jack had the riot act memorized and on standby for moments just like this. Dr. Lawrence asked them to reconsider, glaring eyes focused on Jack’s defensive posture. They eventually allowed Jack to climb in the back next to the stretcher, and the doors were shut without further commentary. One paramedic sat beside Jack, watching a quietly beeping vital signs machine and asking Mac questions, while the second paramedic sat in the jump seat up front, willing traffic to obey laws concerning emergency vehicles. Both go-bags were at Jack’s feet, all the essentials ready at a moments notice. Socks, underwear, shirts, pants, pajamas, extra pair of shoes, toiletries, phone charging cord, a pair of headphones, two water bottles, and three protein bars. Jack’s bag had a personal gun and two knives hidden in a secret pocket, while Mac had twine, tape, homemade matches, and a small back-up knife buried in amongst his clothing. Mac’s trusted Swiss Army knife was tucked into a jean pocket, ready at a moment’s notice.   In all honesty, Jack had believed Dr. Lawrence was overreacting by sending Mac to an unsanctioned hospital. Phoenix Medical could handle anything, specifically poisoning. And that is all Jack wanted to believe was wrong with his partner. He had been poisoned, messing up his blood. Once more blood tests could be done, the right antidote could be administered, and Mac could get back to normal life. The only symptom Mac was showing was a nosebleed – a first, but it wasn’t an uncommon symptom of certain types of poisoning. But a small voice in the very depths of Jack’s brain told him that maybe it wasn’t poisoning and there was something else very wrong with Mac’s blood.That still small voice started screaming as the paramedics, Mac, and Jack all stepped off the elevator onto the sixth floor of Ronald Reagan Medical Center, a looming sign welcoming the group onto the unit. Hematology and Bone Marrow Transplant Unit, Six East. Jack barely understood what hematology meant (had to do with blood, maybe?), and the words ‘bone marrow transplant’ seemed as foreign as the chemistry and physics lectures Mac liked to preach when working on some technical, scientific project. I know we can transplant organs, but what the hell is bone marrow, and how do they transplant that?! Mac, what have we gotten ourselves into? Dr. Lawrence!!The group entered the unit through two large double doors, Jack’s eyes quickly mapping out the space for defensible positions while determining weak points in the infrastructure and noticeable security. The unit was locked – someone inside at the receptionist area had to buzz them in. That provided some mild comfort to Jack, knowing unidentified individuals couldn’t just come in without clearance of some sort. He would need a copy of the blueprint for the entire hospital, a copy of the security protocols in place throughout the building, and a rundown of all security measures in use including cameras, secure rooms, and all secure units. If Mac were going to be staying for longer than twenty-four hours, Jack would need to be privy to all security measures.If Mac had been poisoned, someone had done it intentionally, and Mac would need protection. Thankfully, Matilda Webber was on top of her game. Upon hearing that one of her agents needed further testing at a hospital other than Phoenix Medical, she had called up the on-duty tactical team and given them an assignment that had no current projected end-date. Before the ambulance even arrived at Ronald Reagan Medical Center, three Phoenix agents had shown up to take control of the security situation. One Phoenix agent was tasked with monitoring the hospital environment for anything suspicious through the closed-circuit television monitors at the main security office, while another Phoenix agent patrolled the grounds outside. The last agent, one Agent Brendan Farther, was the first to take up position outside of room 6126, his duty inherently understood that he would protect Agent MacGyver with his life.Matty had gone to great lengths to ensure the safety of her agent while dealing with uncertainty. Room 6126 was at the farthest end of the unit, allowing for Agent Farther to be positioned discreetly in an alcove and away from prying eyes on the rest of the unit while watching over the perimeter and noting anyone who entered or left room 6126. Patient care was minimally impacted throughout the rest of the unit by this choice, which gave the nursing staff no reason to fight the increased security. It benefited everyone. Mac found his new normal in room 6126, a huge window looking east towards downtown. While Mac scooted himself from the stretcher into a somewhat familiar hospital bed, Jack took it upon himself to inspect the entire room with a critical eye. The bed was standard issue medical equipment, no fancy bells or whistles. Above the headboard was the usual medical gas valve, oxygen valve, and suction canister, already expertly supplied in case of emergency. The bathroom was unremarkable – moderately spacious, with a walk-in shower and storage for personal items. The room itself was a large square, room enough for the bed, an overstuffed patient recliner, a floor-to-ceiling closet, two guest chairs with a small table, one-night stand with three drawers, and a bedside table. There was a sink and counter in the southwest corner with cabinets for nursing staff supplies next to a desktop computer situated near the bathroom door. The most beautiful part of the room was the large picture window that looked east across Los Angeles. Strange, the window doesn’t open to let in fresh air. That alone knocked the room down a peg in Jack’s mind.As the paramedics loaded up their stretcher and reported off to a waiting nurse, a brown-haired female of about twenty stepped around the stretcher and offered a pleasant smile to both Mac and Jack before she set a pile of medical supplies on the bedside table at the foot of the bed.“Hi,” she greeted them, a thick ponytail bouncing against the back of her black scrubs as she spoke. “My name is Madison. I’m a student nurse gaining clinical experience here on the BMT unit. Alex is my preceptor, and we’ll be taking care of you until seven this evening. We’ll be admitting you and obtaining orders from the doctor. As soon as Alex gets the run-down of your ambulance ride here, we’re gonna start an IV and draw lab work.”Mac just nodded, his hands fiddling with a loose thread on the hem of his jeans. He sat cross-legged on the bed, feeling small and helpless at the uncertainty of it all. He hadn’t breathed a word – or a sound – sense leaving Phoenix headquarters, answering the medics’ questions with head nods and shakes. There was no way he was trusting his voice to speak for him. If he was honest with himself, he wasn’t feeling great. A gut-wrenching feel of nausea, impending doom, and a full-on panic attack was progressively building inside of him, starting when Dr. Lawrence told him he was getting transferred.The stretcher was whisked away, the paramedics disappearing down the hall. They left Madison, Jack, Mac, and presumably Alex, alone in the room. The silence was broken by a weak moan of distress, followed by Mac’s dry heaves into a nearby emesis basin, conveniently ready on the nightstand. There was nothing all that substantial in his stomach to expel, his diaphragm reflexively heaving small amounts of stomach acid and bile.Alex’s nametag - Alexandria T., BSN, RN, BMTCN – flashed as she quickly jumped into action, delegating Madison to grab a warm washcloth while she logged into the medical record to examine orders placed pre-transfer. Dr. Kang was good like that, ordering things himself.“Mr. MacGyver, we’re gonna get you some nausea medications. Madison has been working on her IV skills, she’ll get one into you in a quick jiffy.” Alex’s face was framed by short, red, pixie cut hair, black-rimmed glasses outlining bold brown irises. She turned back towards her patient, sympathy in her glowing face. “I’m Alex, by the way. I’ll be your nurse today.” Fast fingers clicked in the medical record before she disappeared out the door, the blinds on the outside of the door window banging from the force.  Jack didn’t know what to do. He’d seen Mac vomit before – coming out of anesthesia was always tricky for the blonde, his stomach always rebelling – but this was a whole new feeling of helpless. Crouching beside the bed, Jack frowned, his chest sucking in a deep breath.“I’m here, Mac. I ain’t gonna leave you, ‘k?”A warm washcloth appeared as Madison gently draped it across Mac’s forehead. “Being sick sucks. I’m gonna try to start an IV on you so we can give you that anti-nausea medication, okay?” She gave him a small smile as he grunted in response, his stomach more nauseous now than trying to eject its contents.Mac’s veins were crap – usually from being crud in general, and now apparent dehydration. Madison tried once but was unsuccessful in placing a 20-gauge intravenous catheter into Mac’s right forearm. Alex got it on her first attempt on Mac’s left hand, her fingers deftly sliding the needle out and attaching extension tubing to the catheter hub.Madison took over injecting the anti-nausea medication into the IV, her quiet words asking if Mac felt any pain or discomfort. Mac denied any pain, just the usual cold he felt up his arm from the saline flushing the medication.“Mr. MacGyver –“ Alex had stepped back to the computer, fingers flying over the keyboard.“Mac,” he whispered, nausea slowly ebbing away as the medication started to take effect. “Mr. MacGyver is my father. I go by Mac.”“I apologize,” Alex backtracked, smiling kindly back at her patient. “Mac. Dr. Kang will be up to see you soon, but before I let him obtain his information, Madison and I would like to ask you a few questions, listen to your heart and lungs, and grab some lab work. Dr. Kang saw your blood work from the Phoenix Foundation and has ordered a multitude of blood tests, along with two units of platelets. We must draw something called a type and screen before we can administer those platelets. Have you ever been given blood products?”He nodded as Madison gently pried his iron gripe from the gray emesis basin, the washcloth now off to the side. “I’ve received platelets, red blood cells, whole blood, and cryoprecipitate.”“You were in shock when they gave you cryo. How do you remember that?!” Jack had dragged the large recliner from the corner over to the bedside, parking himself in the seat to Mac’s right. It allowed the medical staff to reach Mac unhindered from the doorway and provided protection from the sixth story window.Old habits die hard – it didn’t matter what floor they were on, even in the hospital. Mac had been attacked by a rogue assassin while undercover in a skyscraper on the twentieth floor. The assassin had come from the roof of all places. Jack had almost tackled the current director of DXS at the time, Jack Hornsbey, but settled for a quick punch for leaving Mac out in the open like that. Jack had been on the seventh floor when his partner had yelled. One swollen eye, two broken ribs, and a hairline skull fracture later, Mac had recovered to his usual perfection. Jack never let the same mistake happen again.Mac shrugged. “I was lucid? This is Jack, by the way. Do you guys have visiting hours, so I can kick him out at some point?”Alex and Madison both giggled at the comment, Jack boring a death glare at his partner.“No visiting hours. Jack can even stay the night if he wants,” Madison replied cheerfully, taking a big bag of fluids and tubing from Alex and hanging it to prime and start running through the IV in Mac’s hand.“HA! Not getting rid of me that quick!”Mac rolled his eyes. There was no doubt in his mind that Jack would stay, no matter how long Mac was in the hospital. He just hoped it wasn’t for too much longer.A sharp knock on the door alerted all occupants to a new face peeking in through the crack. “Hey, Alex, Madison. I brought the standing scale, and I have his armband and blood band. Want to do that now?”With Larissa’s help, Alex and Madison grabbed Mac’s weight and height, assessing his balance when he stood from the bed. Using two patient identifiers, Alex, Madison, and another nurse, Larissa, got an identification band and a blood band placed on Mac, helping to keep him safe will a patient in the hospital.“Full name and date of birth,” Madison asked, her delicate fingers holding onto the all-familiar wrist identification band.“Angus Jackson MacGyver, January 23rd, 1990.”Once Mac was officially confirmed to be who he should be, Larissa left the room with the scale, and both Alex and Madison jumped into asking a plethora of mundane questions, inquiring about Mac’s family history, his personal history, social history, and medical history. They asked about any current medications and any allergies while hooking Mac up to IV fluids, grabbing a set of vitals, and assessing his lungs, heart, abdominal sounds, palpated his abdomen, checked his peripheral pulses, and helped him change into his pajama bottoms and a hospital gown.Not too long after Larissa left, there was another sharp knock on the door, and a petite female with a white lab coat asked to come in to draw blood work. She made quick work of his arm, getting blood flashback and drawing up enough of the red liquid for ten different colored tubes.As the lab technician left, Mac rubbing the crook of his left elbow and frowning unapprovingly, Jack had to know why they had just taken half of Mac’s blood supply.“That was a lot of blood. What are you all testing for?!”Madison had stepped from the room to answer a call light for another patient while Alex finished documenting on the computer, her back turned to them as she clicked through multiple pages of the medical record.“Well, we needed a blood sample for that type and screen, so we can get those platelets in as soon as possible. Probably another hour once the lab starts processing the tube. We want to recheck a complete blood count, have that on file and compare it to further tests as we narrow down an official diagnosis on what’s plaguing you.” She turned, resting her left hip against the computer workstation and taping a finger against her right cheek thoughtfully. “Then we want to check how well your blood is coagulating and clotting, because of your nose bleed. Dr. Kang always wants to see how well your kidneys and liver are functioning, view your acid-base balance, see if you need any necessary electrolytes like potassium, calcium, or magnesium. And some preliminary viral panels, like Hepatitis B and C, cytomegalovirus, and Epstein-Barr virus. Most people with healthy immune systems don’t have any symptoms from cytomegalovirus or Epstein-Barr virus, but they can cause blood abnormalities and cause illness if your immune system is deficient. I think that about covers all of the tubes Pat drew.”Jack felt like Alex was speaking another language entirely to him. But he didn’t get a chance to respond before the door opened once again and a thin-haired, well-kept man in a brilliant white coat stood in the limelight of the hallway.“Dr. Kang! We’ve got him pretty much settled. We just drew those labs and got them sent off. Results should be in within the hour. Platelets will be infused soon. Anything else you would like from me before you get to your interview?”The imposing figure gave Angus MacGyver a once over with his black-brown almond eyes, mouth quirking into a disapproving frown. “Put in an order for a chest x-ray, abdominal and splenic ultrasound, and when I’m done, please grab an EKG.”Alex nodded, repeating back his requests before exiting the room. “Use the call light if you need anything!”The doctor may have had all the features of Asian ancestry, short black hair, almond tear-shaped eyes, and a strict posture, but when he spoke, his accent told both Mac and Jack that Dr. Aaron Kang hailed from New England. He moved with a stiff upper back and made no formalities as he held out his hand to Mac, introducing himself.“Mr. MacGyver, my name is Dr. Aaron Kang. I was asked to consult on your case from Dr. Lawrence when he saw an alarming concern with your blood work this morning. We’re going to work together to find what ails you and get you on the right treatment, alright?” All while introducing himself, Dr. Kang had pulled up a folding chair with his free hand and sat without preamble, becoming eye-level with his patient as they shook hands in greeting.Jack had stood from the recliner, finding he was too antsy to sit much longer. He leaned against the wall beside the huge picture window, his eyes following the doctor’s every move. If they were in for the long haul, Jack had to learn to trust this man to provide the utmost care for his partner, without any reservations. Trust would be hard to come by if the doctor wasn’t completely upfront with what was going on with Mac.“Please, call me Mac. I’m still a little confused about why I had to come here, Dr. Kang. All of my medical care has been adequately managed by the Phoenix Foundation. From my understanding, a high white blood cell count can account for infection.”The doctor nodded, giving thought to his next few words. “Dr. Lawrence believes there is an underlying problem that he cannot manage. We will, of course, rule out all possibilities. The biggest concern is that you aren’t manufacturing any of your own platelets. A count of five thousand is an emergency and is not normal if you were to just have an infection.”“Riddle me this, doc. What do you think Mac has?”Doctor Kang looked up, focusing his gaze on the voice that had spoken. He regarded Jack for a moment. “And you are?”“That’s Jack. He knows basically my entire medical history, probably better than me. He’s allowed to listen in. Asking questions not advised.” Mac shot a glare over at his burly bodyguard, trying to get him to take it down a notch.Jack pursed his lips and crossed his arms, waiting for an answer to his inquiry. He wanted to know what the hell everyone was thinking was such an emergency from a nosebleed.“He asks a valid question. Unfortunately, I need to conduct a few tests to make an official diagnosis. Low platelets counts could be from some type of bone marrow failure, like aplastic anemia – however, your white blood cells would also be low. An autoimmune disease called immune thrombocytopenia is possible, which directly targets the body’s ability to manufacture platelets. An infection could be the culprit, but I would say the combination of high white blood cells and low platelets concern more for prolonged poisoning or another disease altogether.“You must understand, this is all from the first glance at your complete blood count from this morning. And that alone cannot tell me what is going on inside of your body. I need a more complete picture, which is why I would like to ask you a few questions. Is that alright?”Mac gave a slow nod.“How have you been feeling over the past few weeks? Tired, lethargic, dizzy, lightheaded, unable to perform your usual daily activities like normal?”Mac gave a quick short shake of his head. “I’ve been feeling fine, doc. Maybe a little tired, but it comes with the job. We’ve been run ragged the past few weeks, even just got home this morning from a job. I was gonna go for a run, take a shower, and get some much-needed sleep before the nosebleed happened.”“You’re an active runner?”“At least two miles every day, when I'm not on the job. I live in the Hollywood Hills, and there are some great trails near my house. Sometimes I push it to five miles in a day.”“Haven’t been feeling more tired than usual after a good run? Extra tired, more exhausted?”Mac shook his head. “Not that I can think of. But I haven’t been able to get a good run in for about two weeks. Though come to think of it, I was feeling short of breath, mostly while running, sometimes with other activities, but I chalked it up to deconditioning.”“Except you say you run at least two miles every day. Was there a reason you believed you were deconditioned?”The young blonde shrugged. “Felt out of practice with running recently. Maybe not as enjoyable. I’m not sure.”        Dr. Kang nodded, making no judgments as he formulated a diagnostic plan to be implemented immediately. “What is it that you do for a living?”Their cover story flowed from Mac’s mouth as naturally as running did for his legs. There was no need to break cover – they were both partners at an unconventional think tank in Los Angeles, working on unconventional problems all over the world. When the need came up, they were on the next flight out of the country.“I assume you do a lot of traveling?”“Yup. Could I have caught a bug from another country?”Dr. Kang stroked his clean-shaven chin. “Possibly. As I said, I can’t rule anything out at this moment. Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary recently? Lumps, bumps, increased bruising, an infection that waxes and wanes, frequent illness, cuts, and gashes that have difficulty clotting?”“Oh, he’s got bruises. Fresh bruising on top of old bruising. Some of them just appeared out of nowhere. And that handprint bruise occurred three days ago!”Mac absently covered the significant bruise with his right hand, mindful of the IV protruding from the top of his hand. “I’m a bit of a klutz at times. Hazard prone, I guess. I just assumed the bruising was normal, considering the past couple of weeks’ activities. I wasn’t all that worried.” He swallowed, mouth dry as his memory betrayed him. The last shower he’d taken had identified two different lumps in awkward places, almost two weeks ago. Thinking about them now, he knew they weren’t normal."I – I do have two lumps that feel out of the ordinary. I didn’t think anything of them. I only noticed them about two weeks ago. They aren’t painful or anything – just kind of there.” Mac slowly unbuttoned the right sleeve of the hospital gown, reaching towards his right clavicle and feeling around. “Yeah, right here.” He touched a raised area just above the middle of his collarbone, no visible redness or pain, just a bump in the skin.The chair screeched across the floor as Dr. Kang stood and walked to the sink, washing his hands before applying a pair of large gloves. He returned to the bed, looking down at Mac. “May I feel?”Mac nodded, leaning forward a little, but moving his head back ever so slightly to let the doctor inspect and palpate at the same time.With careful hands, Dr. Kang felt the lump, noting its firmness and dimensions, cataloging its nature in his mind. A PET scan would do good, help determine which lymph node to excise. He watched Mac’s face for any pain or discomfort, finding the young man didn’t even flinch.“You mentioned another lump?”Mac nodded again as the doctor stepped back. He looked up at Jack and frowned. “Um, Jack?”“Yeah, Mac?”“Could you – go into the bathroom for a couple of minutes?”Jack felt his left eyebrow raise, his body slowly rising from the comfortable position he’d taken against the wall. “I can step out of the room for a minute. I ain’t going into the bathroom though. I need to find the caffeine in this place anyway.” They were exhausted and had intended to get a good long rest in before this detour occurred. Jack rarely drank coffee, but he had a feeling there wouldn’t be much other than piss-poor diluted black bean water in whatever waiting/family room was around. It was a hospital, not the Hilton.After Jack stepped from the room, Mac said quietly, looking sheepish, “It’s in my left groin. Rubs up against my pants a lot, but I’ve gotten good at ignoring it.”With careful maneuvering, Mac lying down and getting his pajama pants down without embarrassing himself, Mac let Dr. Kang access his groin, his hands mildly chilly on Mac’s hot skin. He was also vaguely ticklish in his groin area, Mac trying hard to keep a straight face and keep still. Once the lump had been inspected, Dr. Kang grabbed a stethoscope from his left jacket pocket and set about to listen to his patient’s abdominal sounds, lung sounds, and heart sounds. He then carefully palpated Mac’s abdomen, feeling an enlarged spleen in the left upper quadrant. Most of the time, patients took no notice of their spleen, but as the doctor palpated, he was obviously causing mild discomfort.“Ow,” Mac said softly, realizing he had been holding a breath in while Dr. Kang examined him. He hated that he felt like his mind was on fire, swimming with worst-case scenarios, pain dull in his bones, sharp in his abdomen.Dr. Kang striped his gloves and tossed them in the trash, applying hand sanitizer from a nearby dispenser before settling back into the folding chair. “Abdominal pain?”Mac had pushed himself to his knees, eventually crossing his legs once again and settling back against the pillow. “At times. Especially when you pushed in that upper left corner. I get punched more often than I would like, have had far too many bruised and cracked ribs in my lifetime. Never really noticed if it was something else bothering me.”“Any other pain currently?”“I – I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck, honestly. Just worn down. Achy bones. Headaches. Haven’t gotten a lot of sleep, and when I do sleep, it doesn’t feel restful. Half the time I wake up in a cold sweat, even if I haven’t been dreaming. I honestly just chalked it all up to the job. Overworked, little rest. Seemed straightforward.” Mac paused, eyes drifting away from Dr. Kang’s gaze and landing on a scratch on the top of the bed’s footboard. He didn’t want to ask the next question, but he had to know. Without Jack fretting over the possibilities. “Be honest with me, doc. What do you really suspect?”There was a beat of silence before Dr. Kang sighed. “I will be straight with you, Mac.” He placed a reassuring hand on Mac’s knee, trying to deliver this news as gently as possible. “I think you have a blood disorder that could potentially kill you. I need to run tests to determine what is going on.”“You think I have cancer.” If the doctor wouldn’t say it out loud, then Mac would. He wasn’t afraid of the gravity of that word. He’d been only four years old when his mother was diagnosed with breast cancer and eventually succumbed to the disease just after Mac’s fifth birthday. As a five-year-old, Mac hadn’t understood why his mom had to leave. Why she had – died. Her death had caused his father to drift away before leaving permanently on Mac’s tenth birthday, leaving Mac to live with his grandfather Harry and learn to fend for himself. Not too long after Mac had met Wilt Bozer and the future looked a lot brighter with his silly best friend by his side.“The tests I would like to obtain will help me determine the official diagnosis. It could be cancer. It could be an infection. It could be an underlying poison. I will not skirt around the truth, but I cannot honestly give you any speculation at this time.”“The plan, then?”A sharp knock came from the door, Jack lifting the blind to show that he had found the anticipated caffeine – piss-poor diluted black bean water, but it would have to do.Mac held up a hand, waving Jack back into the room.“Is it safe?” Jack joked, slipping into the room and coming to a stop at the foot of the bed.Mac wanted to punch him if only he didn’t care so much that Jack was with him and had no intention of leaving. It was comforting. “You don’t have anything better to do?”“Other than watching over you? Nope.” There was a definite twinkle in Jack’s eyes as he walked back to the recliner and sat, coffee cradled in his hands. “What’s up?”Dr. Kang cleared his throat, his eyes on his patient and visitor. “As I was about to tell Mac, the plan so far will be a few quick tests this evening and then two major tests in the morning. I’m going to go take a look at your lab results. However, not all of them will have resulted, probably within the next two to three days for the viral panels. Tonight, I want to see how your heart is functioning through an electrocardiogram, and an ultrasound called an echocardiogram. I’m going to put in an order to ultrasound your spleen and x-ray your chest. I want to rule out all causes of your symptoms.“We’ll keep you hooked up to the fluids because after midnight I will require you to have nothing by mouth for two procedures. The first will be a PET scan – a positron emission tomography scan. This will be in conjunction with a cat scan, to look at the activity of your two lumps, bone marrow, spleen, and any other spots not visible to the naked eye. This scan is painless, but you are required to drink a liter of contrast just before the test.“After the PET scan, one of my advanced practice providers will sedate you for a bone marrow aspiration and biopsy. This process involves taking a long hollow needle and inserting it into the back of the hipbone, specifically the posterior iliac crest. Due to the pain associated with this procedure, I make it a priority to provide all of my patients with adequate sedation to minimize discomfort. A sample of your marrow and the fluid inside the bone marrow will be extracted and sent for testing. A bone marrow biopsy helps me determine what is happening at the cellular level within your body. The bone marrow is where your body creates your blood – platelets, red blood cells, and white blood cells. If something is wrong, this is where we get to the heart of the abnormality.“I will have my advanced practice provider also excise, or surgically remove, one, if not both of, your lumps during the procedure to test for confirmation of any possible disease or abnormality. Risks from these procedures include bleeding, pain, infection, slow wound healing, and potential nerve damage. Due to your already heightened risk of bleeding, I will order the nursing staff to infuse donor platelets to keep your platelet count above fifty thousand before the procedure.“Any questions?”Jack had too many questions to count on all ten fingers and toes, but he’d kept his mouth shut, letting Mac run the show. When Mac had no further questions, Dr. Kang had gotten a quick rundown of Mac’s physical history, medical history, social history, and family history. The good doc had parted ways, promising to get to the bottom of whatever was plaguing the young Angus MacGyver.After too many tests to count, two units of platelets, new medications that Jack couldn’t pronounce, and a long phone call with an anxious covert-ops team, Mac had crawled into bed and mumbled he was tired.That had been an hour ago, Mac’s body shifting in the hospital bed, his breathing even and unlabored in the unfamiliar room.Rolling onto his side in the recliner, Jack softly sighed. He had missed so many signs of his partner being sick. Really sick. The two were usually intimately in-tune with the other – understanding each other physically, mentally, and emotionally. He had noted that Mac had been struggling with some sort of pain issue over the past couple of weeks, struggling to perform even the most basic of tasks. But his stoic best friend had not said a word, powering through the most grueling of tasks and making things out of nothing without so much as making a pained sound or flinch. Not to mention when Mac had willing walked into harm’s way to gather intel, gaining aches, pains, and bruises. But Jack had missed the signs, the obvious way his partner had grimaced slightly after running a couple of miles or climbing eight flights of stairs. The tells had been there – Jack had just chalked it up to the business of being Angus MacGyver, genius wunderkind.And now they were spending their first night in an unfamiliar hospital, the concern of terrible things brewing in the background. Mac was scheduled for a scan called a PET scan in the morning, and then a torture test called a bone marrow biopsy and aspiration. The night shift nurse had tried to describe both tests in better detail to Jack, and while they both sounded unpleasant, the bone marrow aspiration involved needles into the hip bones. Literal torture. Mac seemed relatively unphased, taking his nighttime pills without fuss and crawling into bed to try to sleep before the next vital signs check. The nursing staff would take away his water after midnight, keeping him nothing by mouth until after both procedures were completed. It wasn’t even technically surgery!Whatever was coming, Jack would be by Mac’s side through the thick of it all. Hell, or high water – they would survive this beast.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Friend – one who comes in when the world has gone out.

(unknown)
 The room was cold. It was meant to keep germs from growing, stabilize the patient’s body temperature during intense surgical procedures, and freeze out all the weak medical students. Okay, the last one was probably not true, but Mac was having a lot of time to think while lying mostly naked (save for a sterile drape covering his backside from neck to sterile booties, a stylish hair cap adorning his blond head) on a surgical gurney in suite A at Ronald Reagan Medical Center.The weather report on the tv that morning before he was wheeled down to nuclear medicine had said Los Angeles was going to reach a balmy 75 degrees Fahrenheit that beautiful September Thursday. Mac knew he wasn’t going to be enjoying the warm weather anytime soon – the windows in his hospital room didn’t even open. Jack had asked about that just that morning while Alex and Madison had been fussing with paperwork for the PET scan.“Unfortunately, we can’t have the windows open because of the risk for infection for our patient population. Many of the patients undergoing care on this unit have no immune system or severely compromised immune systems. Instead, we have special filters, called HEPA filters, that circulate clean air throughout the unit, providing a space that decreases a patient’s infection risk.”Sure, the news that the windows didn’t open was grim, but at least the view was killer. Not that Mac noticed much. Too much was going through his mind to really let him appreciate the Los Angeles skyline from a different perspective than his own deck. He had never even made it home before unceremoniously finding himself in an unfamiliar hospital, the future uncertain.Now he was lying on his stomach in a surgical suite just after noon, a nurse fiddling with his IV line for a moment before stepping away to whisper to a nearby technician. Soon, they would put Mac to sleep, take some of the bone marrow and fluid from his left hip, and entirely remove both lumps, all for testing and delivering an official diagnosis. The word cancer wasn’t far from Mac’s thoughts that morning.He let out a shaky breath, tucking his right hand under his chin and resting a cheek against his hand. The oxygen tubing wrapped around his ears and the double prongs poking into his nose bugged him, but the nurse had kindly explained he would need it once they administered the sedatives. He generally didn’t like sleeping on his stomach, but the position was how they would access his hip bone. Thankfully, the tray of needles and laboratory slides were behind him, far from his field of vision. He didn’t really want to know how long that needle was that would pierce his backside. Soon after, while he was still out, they’d flip him onto his back for the double lymph node excision. There wouldn’t be any pain during the procedure – Mac had come to appreciate the forward-thinking of Dr. Kang.His mind drifts, thinking back to earlier that morning. The PET scan itself hadn’t been bad – no pain, just a large donut-hole shaped mechanism. If Mac had to be honest, it looked like a regular cat scan machine, which he had been in too many times to count. But the difference between each scan was the dye used. Instead of having dye injected into his bloodstream, he had to drink a banana flavored dye concoction that he hoped never to have to repeat in his life and sit for sixty minutes in a waiting room. If Jack hadn’t been by his side, distracting him with stupid internet quizzes, Mac would have first vomited from the disgusting taste and gone bored from sitting for so long. Unfortunately, the wait between the ingestion of the dye and the scan was essential to let the dye get into his system.Right as Mac was called back to the machine, Riley had called. Jack promised he wouldn’t leave the waiting area, settling in for the long haul as Mac let the technician guide him down a hall, past a sign saying in large letters Caution: Radioactive Material in Use.A headache coupled with persistent nausea started to brew once Mac returned to his room, waiting for a transporter to come to take him to his bone marrow biopsy. Alex and Madison, the super nurse team if Mac had ever met any, allowed him a small swallow of water with some Tylenol and a quick IV push of anti-nausea medication. Mac had closed his eyes against the bright lights in his room, willing the drugs to kick in sooner rather than later.In the middle of his misery, Dr. Kang and a new face stopped by his room. The new face introduced himself as William Darth, Dr. Kang’s physician assistant. William would be the lucky professional to perform both the bone marrow biopsy and the lymph node excisions. It was at that point Dr. Kang said that both swollen lymph nodes looked suspicious and were excellent tissue samples for testing.  Mac asked about the full results of the PET scan, but Dr. Kang hedged on any real results, reporting that the test would help successfully give Mac a diagnosis when the time came. Mac wanted to call bullshit, but he felt too poorly to defend himself. Dr. Kang reassured him that they would have a clearer picture of what was going on once the bone marrow biopsy and lymph nodes produced results. The earliest any preliminary results would come through was Friday evening into Saturday morning.They had come for him not too long after, Jack giving him a quick hug and a whispered, “I’ll be here when you get back” before the door slammed shut and the wheelchair was whizzing through unfamiliar hospital corridors.He comes back to the present when a female voice starts talking to him. “Sweetie, we’re about to give you those sleeping meds. Anything I can do to make you more comfortable?”Mac mumbled no, closing his eyes against the bright lights being positioned around him. He wished that nosebleed had never happened. That whatever was ailing him would just go away. He didn’t want to do this – he wanted to go home. He wanted to go back to work.“Can you state your name and date of birth for us?” This time it was a male voice – one Mac recognized as William Darth from earlier.Working around the tears threatening to fall, Mac gave them his name and date of birth, the nurse near his head confirming the procedure about to be performed. Be brave. You didn’t ask for this, but you’re going to do it. For your family. For Jack. Riley. Bozer. Matty. Dad. Extended family. Jill. Charlie. Frankie. Penny. Valerie. Annabelle and her mom. Carlos and his family. “Okay, sweetie, I want you to start counting backward from ten out loud, okay?” Voice somewhat shaky, Mac complied. “Ten…”His blood work had come back looking gnarly that morning. In less than twenty-four hours, his white blood cells had skyrocketed over ninety thousand, his lymphocytes crowding out the ability of his body to make a balanced number of adequate cells like red blood cells, platelets, and even other types of white blood cells. Even if Dr. Kang wouldn’t say the word cancer, wouldn’t even mention that it could be a malignancy of some kind, Mac had the foreboding premonition it wasn’t going to be a good diagnosis. Infections didn’t usually flare as intensely as his germ-fighting cells were reacting.“Nine…”His night shift nurse, Richard, had been required to give him another unit of platelets, trying to boost his count to above fifty thousand for the bone marrow biopsy. The risk of bleeding was too significant, and Mac had already suffered a spontaneous nosebleed when his platelets unexpectedly dropped below ten thousand. While observing the transfusion at four am, Richard had woken Mac up to take a pill. At four in the morning. Needless to say, Mac had been a grouch.“I’m sorry, Mac. With your white blood cell count above ninety thousand, your ability to fight infections has been compromised. We follow an important cell called the neutrophil closely to help determine your risk for infection. You aren’t creating enough neutrophils to fend off infections right now. This count, the absolute neutrophil count, was 867 this morning. I have strict orders from Dr. Kang to give you something called levofloxacin, or Levaquin. It’s an antibiotic that can help prevent certain bacterial infections. I know it’s early, but we’re supposed to give it as soon as we get the neutrophil count.”“Eight…”With a small sip of water, Mac swallowed the orange pill and two more white pills, rolling over onto his right side, his back turned towards the nurse. He hadn’t been angry – more annoyed than anything else. The protocols on the unit dictated vital signs every four hours, blood draws at midnight, blood products and electrolyte replacements in the early morning hours, a shower every day with a substance called Hibiclens, and so much more. It was only his first night in the hospital, and Mac already wanted to leave against medical advice.“Seven…”Top it all off, Mac received alarming news that his kidneys might be failing. After that comment, he didn’t get one more wink of sleep. His IV fluids were increased to 200 milliliters per hour, hoping to help clear his kidneys and keep him hydrated while he couldn’t have anything to eat or drink. A lab value of 9.1 filtered through his mind as Richard talked about the signs and symptoms of kidney failure. The 9.1 related to a substance called uric acid, which was the waste product of many physiological functions in the body. Mac couldn’t remember every detail from biology class way back in the day, but he knew that uric acid was excreted by the kidneys – hence urine. If the kidneys failed, the uric acid built up. It could literally kill him. But medical science had come a long way, creating a way to filter out the body’s toxins through dialysis.The thought of dialysis terrified Mac more than anything. It was intense, draining, and all he could see was a blurry memory of his mom hooked up to a dialysis machine in the last month of her life. That would never be him. NEVER!“Six…”Bless him, Jack slept the entire time, a snore here and there from his awkward position in the recliner. Mac should have just made the guy go home or take the offered cot, but what good was it now?   “Five…”The drugs swept over him, dragging him into the depths of unconsciousness. The last thought before he blinked out was, please don’t die, mom.The blinding lights were gone.Instead, his left hip ached, his right collarbone and left groin throbbed with a pulsating rhythm of hate, and the soft click click of a mechanical pump echoed in his left ear. His right ear picked up on a scuffle of shoes moving, a gentle hand grasping his in a comforting manner.“Hey, man.”Not Jack. Mac cracked his eyes open, the overhead lights dimmed, the clock barely a shadow on the wall. The setting sun was casting golden rays across the gray linoleum floor. He’d been out for a while. Slowly taking in his surroundings, Mac deduced that he was in his room, the side rails up, his head heavy on a blue-covered pillow, a friendly face smiling at him from the recliner. But not – not home. He was still in the hospital. But the blue pillowcase was his. At least – he hoped it was."Boze.” His voice cracked from disuse, dry and thick from lack of oral intake for over seventeen hours. His mouth felt like he was back in the Sandbox. The blood pressure cuff began inflating on his left upper arm, a pulse oximeter wrapped tightly around his left index finger. He vaguely remembered them placing that before he’d gone to – to sleep.Pulling his hand from Bozer’s grasp, Mac reached up with a groan and pulled the oxygen tubing from his nose, moaning at the sudden flare of pain in his hip, his shoulder.“Mac, bud, I know you’re probably a little disoriented, but you need that.” Warm hands grasped his own before replacing the oxygen tubing. “Let me call the nurse.”It felt like it came from a distance, a garbled voice asking how they could help from the call light/remote that Bozer was conveniently holding onto."Mac’s awake, um, room 6126.”Whoever was on the other end, thanked the visitor and hung up.Body in too much pain to move, Mac moved just his eyes, memory trying to catch up with him. Bone – bone marrow biopsy. Lymph node removal. Drugs. So – so much pain.“J-J-Jack. He – he promised –“Bozer had stood, eyes wide with worry. “It’s okay. Jack will be right back. He had to get away from sitting watching you sleep the day away. Said something about the gift shop. He didn’t leave.”The rough fabric of hospital sheets was absent from his fingertips as he explored the bed. The blanket wrapped snuggly around him was – not from the hospital. It was – it was his. From his own bed at home. His eyebrows squinted in confusion, wondering when his stuff had magically appeared in his hospital room.Bozer sensed the confusion before Mac could voice it. “I grabbed some homey touches for you since you had such a rough day. Your own pillow, your favorite blanket. Brought some more pajamas, a couple of t-shirts. I’ll take your dirty clothes home to be washed when I leave. And everyone wanted to send you warm thoughts and feels, so I brought all of that too. Um, the nursing staff wouldn’t let me bring in the two flower bouquets from Matty and Jill. Infection risk, apparently.”The bedside table was parked to Mac’s left, six different cards, a balloon, and various trinkets spread across the surface. It brought tears to his eyes. He blamed it all on the drugs, but his family – they were too good for him.    "Matty did leave a box of paperclips – she knows you’ll get bored quickly if you have to be in here for very long. Jill also made an origami crane, with a quote on it. You can look at it later. Um, Riley left her iPad, which is stuffed full of movies, games, and music. Penny gave you the balloon and a teddy bear card. Your dad asked me to bring you a handful of books. I didn’t understand any of the titles. I didn’t bring anything all that special – sorry?” Bozer was frowning, eyebrows pitched forward in thought.Mac smiled around the tears, willing his voice to work. It came in broken soundbites. “It’s – okay. You brought – me – home.”Their hands gripped tight, no words needing to be said further.The moment was ruined by the door opening, and Alex, Madison, and Jack all piling into the room at once.“Mac, how is your pain?”“Would you like some water?” Madison held up a plastic cup, a straw sticking out of the lid.Mac nodded gratefully, taking a few sips before responding to Alex’s question. “Everything aches.”Alex nodded sympathetically. “Very understandable. We brought a medication called tramadol. It’s stronger than Tylenol, but not as addictive as other narcotics. It should dull the discomfort.”While the super nurse team logged into the medical record, Jack stepped up beside the bed, a grin plastered on his face. “Mac, you’re awake!”Mac honestly just wanted to take his meds and go back to sleep, but he smiled up at his partner. “Big guy. You weren’t there when I woke up.”Jack looked crestfallen. “Sorry, bud. I had to get away from this room for a bit. Sitting here with you sleeping off a drug haze was getting very boring. But,” and his face lit up, the grin back. “I got you something.”A heavy square object, about three inches by three inches by three inches, landed in Mac’s outstretched left hand. It was brightly colored. And a good mental workout for when Mac wasn’t feeling like death warmed over.“Rubik's cube,” Mac said it so matter-of-factly, both Bozer and Jack let out a laugh.There was a momentary distraction from the mind teaser and two giggling fools as Madison handed Mac a medicine cup with the pain medication, followed by a long drink of cold water. The super nurse team wrote down previous vital measurements and released Mac from his blood pressure captivity and nasal cannula. Unfortunately, he had no interest in moving anyway due to his pain.Bozer and Jack eventually settled down, Mac closing his eyes as Alex and Madison disappeared for changing of the shift. He was too tired to listen to the light banter between his two best friends. They’d understand if he just… took another nap.Two hours later, Mac awoke to a dark room. The sun had set, his mind was much clearer, and his pain was more of a dull annoyance than stabbing and throbbing him with each muscle movement. He slowly made his way to the bathroom to do his business, ignoring the pestering whispers of Jack.“Yo, Mac, let me help you.”He waved his bodyguard away, wrenching open the bathroom door with determination. He wanted to do this on his own, thank you very much. He didn’t say it, but Jack must have understood because he backed off instantly.By the time Mac made it back to bed, he felt like he had run a full marathon. When did I get so damn weak? He crawled into the bed, burrowing under his blanket, tears creeping back up into the corner of his eyes. There was no way he was crying in front of Jack – but it was no use. Everything was hitting him all at once.He didn’t mean for the sob to escape, but breathing had started to feel almost impossible, his chest squeezing tight. Just a panic attack. It’s okay. Listen to that voice of reason.A comforting hand started rubbing his arm, whispering sweet nothings.“I’m right here. I’m not leaving. You know you can always talk to me. I got you, Mac. I got you.”It took a moment, but Mac let the panic pass, another sob escaping. He didn’t really believe in a god or some higher power, but fuck, he was scared. “I’m scared, Jack.” It was barely a whisper. Mac wasn’t sure Jack heard it, from the silence that followed.A beat of silence longer, and then an audible sniff. “I know. I’m – I’m scared too, bud. But no matter what happens, I will never leave your side. Don’t you ever forget that. You can tell me anything. Don’t – don’t be afraid to cry, okay?” Jack gave his best friend a reassuring squeeze. They would traverse this rocky future together, no matter what.It was like the dam broke, and both men found it acceptable to cry. Even though Mac was hidden by the blankets and Jack was stuck leaning over the bedside railing, the tears flowed that night, so much unknown, and so much to hold onto.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

If you love me, don't let go / If you love me, don't let go / Hold / Hold on / Hold on to me / 'Cause I'm a little unsteady / A little unsteady

(Unsteady by X Ambassadors)
 Mac had always tried to be private about his health. He was a very stoic individual – hiding the pain, pushing it away, ignoring it until the last possible moment. There were times when he should never have put anyone before his own injury, but that wasn’t him. Constantly looking out for others but ignoring his own wellbeing. Too many times, Mac had ended up in a hospital bed in critical condition because he had made sure everyone else was safe and uninjured. Sometimes the damage would have been even less had he followed the mantra ‘secure your own oxygen mask before assisting others.’Riley Davis wasn’t sure what applied in this instance. After hearing the nose bleed had led to Mac’s sudden admission to UCLA Medical Center, she had started researching causes for nose bleeds. Her search came up with nothing all that substantial. Nose bleeds happened. Mac had encountered a hostile situation while in Ukraine and came away with too many bruises to count. But she had no idea if the Ukrainian terrorists had caused the nose bleed and subsequent problems, or something else entirely. Unfortunately, she had yet to find time to come to the hospital – even though Mac had explicitly told everyone not to worry and he would be out in a matter of hours, if not a couple of days.It was day three of his hospital stay and no word from either Mac or Jack about how Mac was doing. Knowing that the hospital was boring and absolute dread, she had made up her mind that early Friday morning to visit her brother in the hospital and bring him some entertainment. Hidden in her backpack was not just her laptop, but also the card game Uno (a favorite on the Phoenix jet), a travel sized version of monopoly, and one of Mac’s favorite brain teasers – Scrabble. Maybe during a heated game of Uno, she could wheedle out of both Mac and Jack what the hell was going on.She’d only been with the team for about two years, but in that time had created an everlasting family. The first few months had been rocky at best, considering some of the things she had done to con Jack and Mac into telling her as much of their background as possible. Oh, she had gotten into their files and snooped, but the records only told half the story. While she never did get the full story on Cairo, she found out far more devastating information about both her surrogate father and surrogate brother. Riley had hacked their medical files, reading up on much of the injuries occurred over only a few years of spy work. Concussions, broken bones, cuts and burns, blindness, the threat of sexual assault, torture beyond imagination, gunshots and knife wounds, just to name a few things. And more than two-thirds of the time, Mac played his injuries off as tolerable or insignificant. Finding this out had made Riley furious.Stepping onto the hematology ward at UCLA Medical Center, Riley had the foreboding feeling that this wasn’t a typical illness. Mac always had his care at the Phoenix infirmary or Medical. And even though he had said he didn’t want visitors, Riley wasn’t going to listen to him. In the very back of her mind, she knew something was wrong – very wrong.Already knowing the room number, Riley weaved herself around equipment and medical staff making early rounds, eyes peeled for room 6126. It was just after seven in the morning, and while she probably should have come later in the day, she had the desire to stop by before heading to the Phoenix Foundation to work in the lab. No missions with their leader stuck in a hospital bed, the gun-toting partner at his side twenty-four seven. And any missions that happened to come up that fit Riley and Bozer’s specific skillsets could be accomplished from Phoenix HQ, even for remote operations.Rounding a corner, Riley smiled as she finally eyed room 6126 and tactical team member Jason Ronan. He was relatively new to the team but had a level head on him. It helped in complicated situations. He spotted her as she came up to the door, a teasing smile on his own lips.“Ms. Davis.”She shook her head, chuckling, letting her backpack slide off her shoulder to the ground. “Riley. You know you can call me Riley. How’s –“ Her eyes turned to the door, about to nod towards it when she saw the glaring red stop sign right above the door latch. STOP! Sterile procedure in progress. NO ENTRY UNLESS ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY.Her eyebrows tilted inward minutely, a frown tugging at her lips. “What’s going on in there?” It’s seven am!Jason shrugged. “Something important. I’m just here to make sure no one tries to get in and take him out.”“Is Jack in there?”“No,” Jason replied, shaking his head. “The medical staff kicked him out. Last I knew he was in the family room just down the hall. He told me to continue my post.”Riley’s face didn’t relax, but she nodded, picking up her backpack and turning around. She found the family room five doors down on the left, a wide-open space with chairs, a couple of tables, two in-progress puzzles, a shelf of books and magazines, two exercise bikes, and tv on mute. She also found her trusted confidante – Jack.Bright picture windows were showcasing the famous Los Angeles skyline, the sun starting to cast shadows from the nearby furniture. Jack stood at the far right window, back turned to the hall, face hidden by sunlight. He seemed to be deep in thought as Riley came up behind him, an untouched cup of black coffee gripped tightly in his left hand. He didn’t even acknowledge her presence.Setting the backpack on a nearby chair, Riley swallowed thickly. “Hey.” It was a whisper, meant to keep him from startling. His head turned towards her, a look of pain briefly passing over his facial features before he contained the moment of weakness.“Little early to be paying a visit, don’t ya think?” His eyes looked tired, withdrawn – worried. She could read him like a book, but getting him to talk wasn’t going to be easy.Riley shrugged nonchalantly. “I was up. Felt like making use of my time. I’m not just here for you, though.”The snort had no mirth to it. No emotion. Except – except a hint of held back anguish and worry. Riley needed to get to the bottom of Jack’s anxiety fast.“I stopped by Mac’s room. Jason said they kicked you out for something. The sign said something about a sterile procedure. Anything I should know about?”Jack’s focus was back outside, eyes staring at the awakening city of Los Angeles. He shrugged, left shoulder lifting and falling without a word. After a moment, he finally gave her the information she sought.“They're placing a couple of – of lines. I – I don’t really understand it all. There was a lot going on in there this morning.” The slight tremble in his voice didn’t go unnoticed. Riley gently put a hand to Jack’s back, silently guiding him to a nearby seat. She was quietly biting her lip, worry gnawing at her stomach. What is going on? What’s wrong with Mac?“What’s going on, Jack?”He sighed, running a hand over his stubble.“It was such – such chaos. He woke up struggling to breathe, headache, blurred vision – I thought the room was gonna burst at the seams with all the people in there. Oxygen, a chest x-ray, and – well, apparently, he has a mass in his chest.”Her mouth went dry. Mass. “So many words I didn’t understand, all being spoken at once. Something about his lungs being clogged, but it wasn’t directly related to the mass; I don’t know.” There was desperation in his voice. Jack had been processing the entire early morning in his mind, trying to understand it all. But he couldn’t. Mac was just so – so sick.“Mac’s really sick, Ri.”Riley started rubbing small circles into his back, her brain categorizing all the information Jack was trying to relay.“Sounds like the mass didn’t grow. It’s his blood that’s the problem. Too many – too many white blood cells. His kidneys –“ Jack paused, Dr. Kang’s words echoing in his mind. Watch his intake and output closely. Check labs every six hours. Give a dose of rasburicase. I think his kidneys are taking a hit. Call in cellular therapeutics. “Jack?”He shook his head, coming back to the present. “S-S-Sorry.”          Riley twisted a thread on her jean pant leg. “Jack, do I need to call everyone?”Jack shook his head, adamantly. “He doesn’t want that. Not until – until we get some answers. I don’t know how this is going to play out. I just – I can’t help but think I missed something. What if – what if this isn’t poisoning? What if it’s something much worse? What if it’s something we could have prevented? What if his stint with the Ukrainian terrorists got him sick? I don’t know what I’ll do if it comes to that conclusion. It doesn’t sound like an infection, it’s too – critical.”Worse than poisoning? She wrapped her arms around her surrogate father, hugging him hard. Comforting words to appease his guilt. “This isn’t your fault, Jack. Mac has to be the one in control of his health.”“But I know my partner, Riley.” He broke the hug, a stray tear in his eye. “I can tell when something is wrong. And I didn’t think anything was wrong before – before now!”The bruising had been all a part of the job. A nosebleed could happen to anyone. The small aches and pains could have been attributed to too much running or too much time spent on his feet. Except – Mac never mentioned the damn lumps. And stoic, brave Angus MacGyver was now in a hospital bed, fighting for his life. But from what?!Riley wanted to console him. She was desperate to fix what burdened Jack’s thoughts that morning. But she didn’t know the half of it, and she knew it all had to do with Mac. And until she saw Mac with her own two eyes, she couldn’t presume a thing about her family and their emotional wellbeing.They were saved by a light knock on a nearby wall. “Mr. Dalton?”Jack looked up, eyeing one of the nurses who had been in the room that morning. He knew shift change was occurring – she must be ready to get home, get some sleep. He understood long nights and awkward sleep during the day hours.“Yeah?” His voice was rugged from the almost-crying, and the emotion buried deep inside. But he needed to be strong – for Mac, for Riley, for the team.The nurse smiled. “Mac’s asking for you. The medical staff has finished with their sterile work, and they’ll be setting up for the next procedure in the next hour. You can stay in the room, though it’ll get crowded quick.”Jack nodded, thanking her for the update.Riley hugged him briefly one last time, whispering, “I’m here for anything, okay?”His gaze was back out the window, a look of exhaustion evading his mixing emotions and thoughts. “I know.”A few moments later, the two got up, backpack in one hand, a fresh cup of coffee in another, their free hands gripping tight.Jason greeted them as they approached, not commenting on Jack’s pale facial expression or Riley’s worrying lip. But both were trained government agents (well, Jack more so), and they managed to school their emotions before stepping into the room.Riley softly knocked, the door opening at Jack’s push. As Jack moved back to his seat in the recliner, soft voice speaking something, Riley took in the room – drab white walls, sterile white tile, and the epitome of hospital unpleasantness. She moved to the far side of the room, her backpack dropping onto the small table in the corner by the window, her hands gripping a chair as she dragged it to the bedside.The figure in the bed was curled on his right, a nasal cannula tucked into his nostrils, blond hair frazzled in all directions. An orange tint – iodine – trailed from Mac’s left ear to his elbow, circling his entire left upper arm. He was shirtless, a starchy white sheet pulled up to mid-rift. Two lines were exposed, with one thin tube and three extensions extending from the inside of Mac’s arm, two of the extensions infusing fluids and blood. The second line protruded from the crook of his neck, two big tubes dangling precariously, a transparent dressing covering the insertion site. It was capped – not in use.But the lines couldn’t distract from Mac’s clouded eyes – a mixture of pain, weariness, and fear hidden by a drugged smile.“Hey, Ri.”She heard the weakness. It was so unlike Mac. Something was definitely wrong. Oh, Mac. She reached for his outstretched fingers, squeezing them gently.“You look worse for wear.”He managed a small laugh as his eyes closed involuntarily. “They – uh – gave me a sedative. Too anxious.” He pried his eyes open, remembering. He’d been hyperventilating, his fingers and toes a strange shade of blue from oxygen deprivation. There had been a mask and then something warm in his hand from the IV line. Dr. Kang had been talking as they prepped Mac’s left arm for a peripherally inserted central catheter and his neck for an internal jugular line. “Not doing so hot.” Soft words slurred by the current effects of the medication.Riley gripped his hand tighter. “Well,” she said with far more bravado than she thought possible. “You’re just gonna have to get better quick. Because I brought Scrabble, Monopoly, and Uno.”“She brought Uno,” Jack murmured as he leaned forward in the recliner, fingers gently brushing a few strands of hair away from Mac’s eyes. Jack’s demeanor was surprisingly strong – not one ounce of the fear and pain from earlier. “You’re gonna have to kick her ass this next round.” Uno was a favorite party game for the group – Riley won every round. Some swore Uno broke friendships, but Riley just gloated and then moved onto Mac’s prized game – Scrabble.Mac hummed in agreement, a frown appearing as the hum turned into a moan. He shifted restlessly in the bed, eyes squeezing tightly shut.“Bud, you in pain?” Panic spiked in Jack’s brain. Mac hadn’t shown any signs of pain before – not even with all the bruises and the exhaustion from the op.His partner nodded, the IJ tubes clacking in his ear. Distress was etched into his furrowed brow, and through clenched teeth, he spoke. “All my bones hurt.”Riley released her tight grip, hands back in her lap almost instantly. “I’m so sorry, I –“Mac shook his head, eyes closing involuntarily once again. “Not – not your fault. Please, d-d-don’t leave.” He fell silent, breathing a little ragged, even with the oxygen.Jack swallowed hard, just watching his brother breathe – in and out; in and out; in and out.Unfortunately, a cell phone decided that moment to start incessantly ringing. Jack murmured apologies as he reached into a nearby bag and grabbed his blaring phone. Glancing at the number, he sighed.“Gotta take this, sorry guys.”Riley let Jack leave, her chair scooching closer to the head of the bed. “I’ll stay with Mac.”The sound and his name roused Mac briefly, his eyes half-lidded.  Jack looked conflicted, but the phone wouldn’t shut up, and the call was urgent. He nodded, finally stepping out of the room as he answered the caller.Riley rubbed Mac’s hand, his body relaxing back into sleep. She’d stay for as long as Mac let her. There was nowhere else she needed to be – Matty would understand. No dire projects were needing to be completed at the Phoenix. She could take the day and spend it with Mac and Jack. Mac needed the companionship more than ever – at least, that’s what Riley reasoned as the pit deep in her stomach grew with each passing moment, each event that seemed to signify Mac was doing poorly.Her eyes wandered around the room as Mac slept off the sedative. There was a large patient update board hanging on the bathroom door, Mac’s name, the date, activity status, and more filled in. The goals for the day were written in a brilliant red. Walk in the hall; Leukapheresis 1/?; Shower; Labs Q6 – 1200, 1800, 0000, 0600; Get bmbx and lymph biopsy results. Each goal had a box, but none of them were marked off. There were also too many acronyms she didn’t understand – but she had the feeling Mac could decipher them without blinking.He was a real-life genius. But he was also kind, funny, and generous. He unreservedly believed there was always a solution, disproving the idea that there were no-win scenarios. He loved unconditionally and gave everything to make sure his family came home safe and sound. It is what made him a brilliant spy.Riley worried that whatever was ailing him was going to sideline him from the field for weeks, if not months. And if there was one thing you couldn’t keep Angus MacGyver from doing, it was going out into the world and making a difference. Not a force in the world could stop him from staying active, creatively solving unconventional problems. But what if this could? What if?Jack walked a few steps behind Mac, their footsteps in sync as Mac trudged himself down the hallway. He had only completed two laps around the entire 6East unit, and yet he was exhausted. His blood work looked markedly better from midnight, with his electrolytes stabilizing after starting new IV fluids with sodium bicarb, his kidneys looking only ‘mildly’ injured now, per the nursing staff. His white blood cells came down from 123,000 to 86,000 after just one leukapheresis treatment. That alone had been quite the procedure – cycling out the white cells from all the other cells. Fascinating didn’t even begin to describe it, even if Mac had been still under the influence of a hefty dose of lorazepam from the line insertions.The morning had been a whirlwind. After having both a peripherally inserted central catheter (PICC) and internal jugular (IJ) line placed, getting a unit of platelets and blood, and continuing to have metabolic respiratory distress, Mac had zonked out to fight all the changes going on in his body. Riley visited and stayed for much of the morning, talking and laughing about random shit with Jack as the leukapheresis machine did its job. Unfortunately, she had been called back to the Phoenix shortly before the procedure completed, her smile sad as she left, the three games sitting unplayed on the table.  After the procedure finished, two hours beginning to end, more lab work was drawn, the second unit of blood was administered, and the clock inched towards noon. Mac fell asleep, again, before finally waking up ninety minutes later and feeling more human. Except he woke up cranky, telling Jack to shut it with the jokes about blood, gore, and the zombie apocalypse.The day shift nurse, Cora, helped him get prepped for a shower, both lines in his left arm and neck requiring covering to keep dry. The peripheral IV had been removed shortly after confirmation that his two central lines were in the right place and ready to use. They could draw blood and give blood and fluids through the PICC line, while the IJ was reserved for the leukapheresis procedure. Dr. Kang hadn’t been sure if one or two sessions would be necessary, so the line would glare out of the side of Mac’s neck for at least another twenty-four hours.He didn’t look much worse than the other few patients doing laps that afternoon on the floor. Mac didn’t really want to talk to any of them, but his eyes might have stared for too long at a couple of individuals. Bald, splotchy skin, and tired eyes. Their IV poles were decorated, orange ribbons on one, green ribbons on another.Finishing a third lap, energy waning, Mac went back to his room, teeth worrying his lips as he sat on the bed after plugging back in his pump and reconnecting the telemetry wires. Sometime during his morning adventure, Dr. Kang had ordered continuous telemetry – five patches in strategic places on his chest, five wires tangling in his bathrobe as they delivered an electronic picture of his heartbeat to the vital sign machine. Something about how when the electrolytes got too high or too low could create extra beats or even mess up the abilities heart to beat properly, with the potential to be lethal. Mac hadn’t argued, his focus on his breathing and the massive headache brewing. It had been a stressful morning.Jack looked up from his phone as he entered the room, the door slipping shut behind him. His eyes narrowed in on Mac’s racing thoughts, attention dragged from technology.“Okay, bud, spill. What are you thinking about?”The kid swung his legs up onto the bed, head dropping onto the pillow, a sigh escaping. “Just about this morning. Nothing all that exciting, Jack. I’m fine.”Now that’s a bunch of bullshit if I’ve ever heard it! But the older man didn’t press the issue as he sat back in the recliner, a yawn escaping. “I think I’ll ask for the cot tonight. This thing is – uncomfortable.”It made Mac laugh, his head shaking at Jack’s pained expression. But it was no secret the recliner was uncomfortable – Jack had been sleeping it in for two nights and sitting in it for even longer days, never leaving Mac’s side unless the medical staff demanded it. A body could only handle so much discomfort in the long run.They were quiet for a moment, Mac taking a moment to just breathe. Cora had let him take off the oxygen after his oxygen saturation improved post-leukapheresis procedure. He still felt short of breath at times, especially when walking anywhere – the bathroom, in the hall, around the room. But it was better than lugging an oxygen tank around with him everywhere.He saw the three games sitting on the table, and an idea came to him. “Hey, Jack. I bet I could beat you at Uno.”The older man had a game face on instantly. “Oh, you are so on, man. Be prepared to choke on those words.”The deck had been laid, the cards distributed.“Will you just play your turn already?”“He’s scared.”Shining, mischievous blue eyes flickered upwards, piercing into Riley’s soul. But he said nothing, eyes back on his two cards. He wanted to make the right move. But the odds were stacked against him. Every Uno game in the past two years had been won by Riley, full stop. She always kept a draw four hidden until her very last chance, catching all other players off guard. And somehow, they all always fucking fell for it. This wasn’t the first time Mac had ended up with two cards in his hand, his voice ready to yell ‘Uno!’ until his next turn would be crushed by Riley. Not today. I will win. “He has every right to be scared. But it shouldn’t take him ten minutes to make a move! Or I’m going to put a damn time limit on your turn, Mac!”Mac let out a sigh, rolling his eyes as he played a blue seven. “Uno! Happy, Jack?”Jack scowled, face scrunched up in defeat. He still had eight cards in his hand, and none of them were blue, none of them were sevens, and none of them were color changes. The fucking odds with this game.Thankfully, it was now Bozer’s turn, and he played much quicker, making Jack draw two and skip his turn, passing on the play to Penny. To say Jack was even more irate was beside the point.Riley laughed, her own hand of five cards held gracefully in her fingers. Inside, she was the one scared. This time she didn’t have any way to make Mac take more cards – not to mention, two other players were between him and her. And since she had no idea what his last card held, it meant she could only guess if he were about to win against her – for the first time in literally ever.Except, she had also been intentional in using her draw four card earlier in the game because she wanted to make Mac feel better. He was stuck in the hospital, no timeline on when he was getting out. She was super glad he was feeling better – seeing him vulnerable had been hard for Riley. He was the glue that held the entire family together. His vulnerability was never so prominent, but drugs had a way of dulling the senses and masking a person’s ability to hide their emotions.So, there they were, the gang all back together for one evening. Riley had convinced everyone (Bozer, Matty, Jill, Penny Parker, and James MacGyver) to come and visit Mac in the hospital, bombarding the genius spy with more games, a Star Wars balloon from Matty, and two silly cards that played the Star Wars theme and a Taylor Swift song. The high stack of games was intimidating. Uno, Monopoly, Scrabble, Yahtzee from Jill, card games from Jack, Penny, and Bozer, which included an actual deck of cards, Phase 10, and Skip-Bo, while Jim had brought a brand-new chess board.It was chill in the room; except maybe for the intense game of Uno going on. Matty and Jim were sitting at the small table in the corner, discussing whatever adults liked to discuss. The rest of the gang played Uno, Mac sitting cross-legged at the head of the bed, Riley mirroring his pose at the end of the bed, Jack, Penny, Jill, and Bozer sitting in chairs at either side of the bed. The game was spread out across the fitted sheet, two draw decks balanced precariously on the lumpy mattress, a gigantic pile of discarded cards in the very middle. Riley had brought two versions of the game, mixing up the cards for a more massive deck and double the fun. Except they all knew Uno broke friendships. And made Jack a grumpy pants.Riley glanced down at her cards, wondering which one to play. But she didn’t get the chance, a sharp knock on the hospital room door announcing someone’s presence at eight that Friday night. The on-coming nurse, Lacey, had already said hi, Cora telling Mac she’d be back in the morning. And since Lacey had seen the large group of visitors in the room, with no one else coming, the door knock was completely unexpected.Every head turned, but it was Mac who spoke first. “Come in!”A familiar face peered through the blinds before eventually stepping into the room. Dr. Kang looked – for lack of a better word, exhausted. He had been on-call the night before, managing MacGyver’s emergent situation before seeing patients in the clinic and rounding on other patients on the unit. He should have gone home a couple of hours ago, but that was before the pathologist called him with unsuspecting news.But there was something else in his facial expression, one of held-back grief that had been forced into hiding one too many times when bad news must be delivered. Dr. Kang looked around the room, momentarily surprised at all the visitors.“Quite the party going on, Mac.”“My family.”Of course, Dr. Kang knew that Mac had only his father as living biological family. Family was not merely biological, but it is also what each person made of a group of trusted confidantes and close-knit relationships. In this case, family was meant more as a way to express devotion to specific individuals, regardless of biological connection.“I know you have had a lot going on the past few days. I do have news, but I need to know if you would like to hear it in private or if you are okay with your family listening in.”The truth would come out at one point. It didn’t matter if it was now or tomorrow or a week from then. Everyone in that room would hear, whether it was good news – or bad news. Mac couldn’t keep this from them. Better to rip the band-aid off quickly.“They can know what you have to say, Dr. Kang.” The Uno game forgotten, Mac put his single card on the bed, throat swallowing instinctively, eyes never leaving his physician.Penny and Jill gave each other glances before getting up and moving away from the bedside, leaving a spot for Dr. Kang to come up beside his patient. Riley climbed off the bed, her stance protective behind Bozer’s seat. She didn’t like where this conversation was headed.Dr. Kang quietly thanked the two ladies, his body sinking into one of the chairs. He took a calming breath, focus entirely on Mac.“Between the results of your PET scan, your bone marrow biopsy, the two lymph node biopsies, and your worrying blood work, I have unfortunate news. Talking with the pathologist this evening, we agreed that you have a rare form of lymphoma. It has a confusing name, and we haven’t had the greatest success in long-term survival. You have a blood cancer called anaplastic diffuse large B-cell lymphoblastic lymphoma.”Each word hung heavy in the air. Mac instinctively swallowed again, the words echoing in his mind. Blood cancer. Lymphoma. Anaplastic diffuse large B-cell lymphoblastic lymphoma. I – I –“Unfortunately, your stage is also a concern. While most blood cancers do not have an assigned stage, due to the nature of the disease, lymphoma is different. We consider disease above and below the diaphragm, along with extranodal involvement. You came in with two lumps, one above and one below the diaphragm, signifying an advanced stage, stage III. Your PET scan also showed a small mass in the middle of your chest, which is common with lymphoma. However, your spleen and bone marrow are also impacted, the bone marrow turning out immature and mature B-cells rapidly, triggering your body to not create platelets or red blood cells in balance with your physiological needs. The spleen is overpowered by the influx of malfunctioning cells, causing it to grow too large to work properly. Due to your current condition, I regret that I must initially diagnose you at stage IV.”Shell-shocked would aptly explain every facial expression in that room at that exact moment. Jill and Penny were stunned silent, Matty looked regretful, Jim couldn’t take his eyes off his son, their relationship still figuring itself out, while Riley immediately started to cry, Bozer coming to her rescue and leading her out of the room, holding her tight. As for Jack, he sat at the edge of the recliner, knees balanced precariously on his knees, chin resting on folded hands. He took the news without a single change in expression, his breathing even and steady. He was a trained government agent – he could fool even the best.Mac looked down at the discarded Uno game, wondering when his life had literally turned upside down. Was it when he found out his father was his boss, making decisions in his life without actively being a part of the life Mac had lived? Was it when he quit the Phoenix Foundation, aimlessly wandering the United States in search of something that defined him, and not the life his father had designed for him. Was it when he came back to the Phoenix Foundation two months later, telling his father that while he still didn’t trust him, they could try to work on the broken strands of whatever life they were destined to achieve as father and son? Was it when he first noticed the lumps? Was it when he started seeing more bruising than was usual for his job? Was it when he allowed himself to be willingly taken by terrorists and tortured? Or was it when his nose started to bleed without warning, a strange phenomenon that could not be explained – until now?Dr. Kang was quiet, waiting for Mac to respond.After a few heartbeats, Mac looked back up at his physician, determination on his face. “That’s the bad news. What are we going to do about it?”“The first and best line of defense is a combination of chemotherapy and immunotherapy. Specifically, an immunotherapy called biotherapy, targeted at specific parts of your immune system, mainly the cancer, helping to destroy and prevent continued growth. While I still need to work on a defined treatment plan, most rare lymphomas are best treated with a protocol called CHOP. CHOP stands for cyclophosphamide, doxorubicin, vincristine, and prednisone. The first three are chemotherapy drugs, while prednisone is a steroid. Because more than half of your cancer cells are expressing an antigen we call CD20, I want to also give you a biotherapy called Rituximab. But because about thirty percent of your cancer cells are expressing another antigen we call CD30, I want to add Etoposide, also a chemotherapy drug, to your treatment regimen. The name of this regimen is R-EPOCH. These would be lengthy treatments with many cycles, all dependent on how your cancer responds."And I cannot delay treatment any longer, considering the invasive nature of your cancer and the multiplication of your malfunctioning immune system. Tomorrow morning, I will perform a procedure called a lumbar puncture to test for cancer cells in your central nervous system and give you another chemotherapy drug called methotrexate to kill off any cancer and prevent spread into your spinal fluid and brain. After that, we will determine if you require another leukapheresis procedure, and then get your chemotherapy started.”At least we have a plan. I never have any plans. Mac slowly nodded. “When – when can I get out of the hospital?”Dr. Kang put a hand on Mac’s shoulder, mindful of the IJ. “You are at high risk of complications, especially once we start treatment. I can’t give you a timeline, but I’d prepare for at least a month.”Jack stood, fear in his eyes. “A month?!” He was almost yelling, anger in his voice. “You expect him to stay in the hospital for a month?! What about his job?! What about his life?! You don’t know what he’s got going on in the next month –”Matty, all but half of Jack’s size, was up on her feet, her boss face on as she interrupted his rant. “Jack, calm down. This isn’t the first time Dr. Kang has had to break bad news. If he says Mac needs to be in the hospital for a month, then it is going to happen.”A month. Fuck. Mac absently started to wring his hands, his thoughts going a mile a minute. He couldn’t – he couldn’t think. He didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know what to do. All he heard was noise surrounding him, Jack and Matty arguing as Jill and Penny disappeared from the room.The only one not in upheaval was his father, sitting quietly in the corner, head tilted in contemplation of the situation. Mac was not only his son but one of his field agents. The best field agent at the Phoenix Foundation. A great talent lost to the world of medicine and an uncertain future.But there was another thought in Jim’s mind. He had lost his beloved wife to the same dreadful disease. Would he also lose his son, after only just learning to reconnect? Had he wasted too much of their lives staying hidden, playing god? Would this drive them further apart?“Mac.” A voice penetrated the fog in Mac’s mind, Dr. Kang trying to grab his attention once more. He looked up, taking a deep breath. It reluctantly hurt.“I know this is a lot to take in at once. I want to get your orders in, so you can start treatment in the morning. Before I leave, can I answer any questions?”What questions should I be asking? Am I going to die? He said – they had difficulty with long-term survival for this disease. I’m not going to be some fucking statistic. I have to fight every minute of every day. I will not let this cancer win. But I don’t know – I don’t know what to ask. I don’t know what to do.Mac shook his head, quietly thanking Dr. Kang for finally finding him concrete answers. Mac almost wanted to laugh – now that everyone knew, they would be googling treatment options and clinical trials to find him a cure. And it was going to drive Mac nuts. But they were his family. And they cared. Even the yelling between Jack and Matty was utterly expected. I’m sorry, guys. I’m so sorry.Dr. Kang left, leaving Mac to his thoughts. But Matty and Jack were invading them, their bickering too much.“Will you two shut up? Better yet, leave. Please leave.”Jack turned away from Matty, eyes wide in confusion and fear. “Mac –““I just want to be alone. Come back – come back tomorrow or something. But I don’t want to hear your bickering or your apologies right now. I can’t do it.”Matty reluctantly nodded, acquiescing to his request. She stepped up to the bed, squeezing his clasped hands. "I'll tell Penny, Jill, Riley, and Bozer. They can text you, okay?"Mac nodded, already regretting his decision to kick everyone out. But he wanted to be alone. Matty quietly left, leaving Jack standing in the middle of the room, crestfallen.Jack looked particularly wounded, unsure if he should leave or stay. Mac wasn’t in his right mind – no one was after being told they had cancer and wouldn’t be able to leave the hospital for a month. But if Mac wanted to be alone – he wanted to be alone. It was rare, it was definitely unusual and out of character. But Jack had to give his brother the space he asked for, even if he didn’t approve. Mac needed all the support they could provide – being alone just felt wrong.He gathered up his stuff, glancing back at Mac’s form from the door, his brother’s form so small in the bed. The Uno game left unplayed on the bedsheets, Mac having curled into himself, face turned away from the door.Okay, Mac. But mark my words, I’ll be back in the morning. You aren’t going through this alone. You’ll never be alone.The last person left was Jim, still sitting quietly at the table, watching his son process the recent turn of events with a brave face. He knew he needed to leave, but he wasn’t sure how.Even with his eyes closed, Mac still knew who was left. “I’m sorry, dad.” He was whispering, holding back the tears that were destined to fall. “I know this messes up the Phoenix, and I can’t blame you for probably being really angry right now. All I can think about is – is mom.” He paused, a lump in his throat. God, mom. James MacGyver stood, crossing the empty space between table and bed, kneeling at his son’s side. He didn’t say anything, just took Mac’s hands in his and held them. No words – just them.Finally, his father spoke. “Rest. Everything will work out. And don’t worry about the Phoenix – it’ll still be there when you return.” He stood, brushing a hand through his son’s hair, before eventually gathering his jacket and slipping from the room.Mac felt tears track down his cheeks, fear wrapping around his heart. I’m terrified. Cancer – god, cancer. How – how…It would be the first, and only, night Mac would spend alone in the hospital.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Anaplastic Diffuse Large B-Cell Lymphoblastic Lymphoma (ADLBCLL) is a rare type of aggressive non-Hodgkin lymphoma (NHL), where multiple diagnostic indicators point to numerous different types of lymphoma in different parts of the body, with the bone marrow involved in more than half of all diagnosed cases. ADLBCLL is frequently diagnosed at advanced stages and challenging to treat due to the revolving diagnostic changes and genetic abnormalities. It mainly affects people under the age of 30.

(author Benedicthiddleston)
 Restlessness plagued him the entire night. Between every four-hour vitals, medications, and fluids, blood draws, and an untimely fever of 101.4 Fahrenheit, which incurred two blood cultures, intravenous antibiotics, and a lab poke, Mac got little sleep. As if the distractions and interruptions in his cat naps from the medical staff were bad enough, his body ached. Head to toe. It was like a vice was squeezing every major bone in his body.If his cell phone hadn’t been plugged in all night, it would have been dead from the constant usage. Mac couldn’t get the words anaplastic diffuse large b-cell lymphoblastic lymphoma out of his head. Whatever dreams he might have had would have been infiltrated by white blood cells and sneering faces. He didn’t really have any feelings one way or another about clowns, but he imagined clowns would be involved. Every time he woke up in a sweat, fingers clawing for his phone, a new search term typed lightning-quick into the browser window. Mac scanned peer-reviewed science and medical journals, blog posts, discussion forums, and sites like the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society looking for any information he could about his new-found diagnosis.As Dr. Kang said, it was rare and tricky to treat. There were only three clinical trials in the entire world dedicated to the diagnosis, one in Rochester, Minnesota at the Mayo Clinic, one in Seattle, Washington at Fred Hutchinson and the Seattle Cancer Care Alliance, the last one in India. With so few cases amongst the tens of thousands of non-Hodgkin lymphoma cases (encompassing too many subtypes to even count) around the world, research was limited. Add to the fact Mac was a young adult, the odds looked even more troubling. If you thought children received terrible treatment protocols for leukemia and lymphoma that were meant more for adults, then the treatment protocols and research into young adult cancers were even worse. Young adults were a subset of the population all on their own, and few clinical trials existed for them, let alone the diseases that impacted their lives at such crucial milestones.While Mac was a young adult at twenty-eight years of age, he thankfully had a stable life. He’d dropped out of MIT in the late fall of 2009 to join the Army, which had led him to meet Jack Dalton, which ultimately led both into the work of covert government operations. Jack had been a part of the CIA on and off for quite a while, but they were stuck at the hip when DXS reached out to recruit both men into the world of alternative solutions to world problems. And that was where Mac had settled, living in his grandfather’s home and literally running around the world since early 2012. Good health insurance, popular retirement packages, stable pay, and Mac got to do the thing he enjoyed the most: make something out of nothing.Wincing in pain as his left leg throbbed, Mac clicked his phone dark, breath coming in short gasps from the level of ouch echoing throughout his body. The nasal cannula was tucked into his nose, necessary once again after his first fever spike. They called it a neutropenic fever. His immune system was so overrun with lymphocytes – his cancer – that he wasn’t making enough of the rest of his immune cells. One of them, neutrophils, was so low that he could not fight infection. If he caught a cold right then, he could die. He didn’t know what the numbers were for that early Saturday morning, but Mac was more focused on the physical complications.He usually didn’t notice the pain. Hell, he didn’t usually have time to notice – his mind was generally swirling with mathematical equations, theories of physics, and chemical compounds. But with the prospect of over four weeks of lying in a hospital bed looming before him, he didn’t have a lot of distractions from the pain.Every project, every mission, would have to be on hold until he got out and could get back to the Phoenix. He didn’t know when that would be – he hoped in four weeks. But stage four cancer was nothing to laugh at – especially since treatment was going to be long and somewhat experimental. And if the research from the internet proved anything, Mac was in for a world of changes.The treatment plan suggested by Dr. Kang would be intense. Probably six to eight cycles of R-EPOCH, depending on disease response after periodic diagnostic tests. Each cycle lasted three weeks or 21 days, but anything could disrupt that timeline, from extensive side effects to lack of cell regeneration. Infection, blood clots, neurological changes, renal and liver malfunction that could lead to failure, not to mention the cardiac complications. Most people saw their blood counts drop to nothing and vomit up their guts. Add to it sores in the mouth and liquid diarrhea – Mac had stopped reading the chemocare resource online after just the first two drugs.Bless her, Lacey had tried to get him to talk after everyone left, her gentle words attempting to ease the pain of a new cancer diagnosis. But Mac had been relatively quiet, only answering her questions as was necessary for her to do her job. Before leaving to see her other patients, Lacey had left a handful of pamphlets on his bedside table, encouraging him to call if he had any questions, or even if he just wanted to talk. The brochures weren’t precisely about his specific cancer – generalized non-Hodgkin lymphoma, new to cancer treatment, a quick rundown of the immune system, and links to internet resources, including the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, ChemoCare.com, the American Cancer Society, and the Dear Jack Foundation. Overall, he knew the nursing staff and even Dr. Kang were just trying to help ease him into the new ‘not’ normal he’d been forced into, but he didn’t want to accept it. Wasn’t the first stage of grief denial?He couldn’t ignore the pain any longer. His phone said it was four-thirty in the morning, and Lacey was gonna come into the room soon anyway. Might as well rip the band-aid off on what was bound to be a very long day.Mac hit the call button, waiting for someone to answer. It picked up a few seconds later.
Hey, Mac. How can I help?
“Can I have something for pain? And um – I’m awake if you want to take my vitals.”
Let me see what we can get you for pain, and I’ll be in soon. Anything else I can grab before I come in?
“No, thank you.”He rolled to his left, wincing at the tug from the line sticking out of his neck. He hoped they could take that blasted thing out today. He sat up at the edge of the bed, eyes unfocused on the linoleum floor. He grabbed the IV pole – now his constant friend – and trudged to the bathroom.Mac hadn’t seen his reflection in a handful of days. No point. But now, standing in front of the sink and adjacent mirror, he saw the deep purple bruising on the left side of his neck, the sleepless night under his eyes, and the tousled hair that he hadn’t touched with a comb in three days. If he stared long enough, he swore it wasn’t himself he was peering at, but someone else now living inside a body that looked like him.
Okay, Angus. This is happening. Today you start chemotherapy. Today is the start of the rest of your life. How are you going to face it? Crying like a baby, or laughing at stupid jokes from Jack? Oh, Jack. I’m sorry. Please don’t let me drive my family away.
The knock on the bathroom door pulled Mac from his thoughts.“Mac, are you doing okay in there?”He shook his head, clearing his mind. He still needed to pee, and then – pain meds. Blissful relief from the aching.“Be right out.”A few minutes later, he was back in bed, letting Lacey fuss over him.“I brought you tramadol for the pain. What’s hurting currently?”Could he really say everywhere? “Uh, well, all of my bones, to be honest. They’ve been throbbing all night. Keep waking me up.”Lacey, blond hair swept up in a bun, green eyes twinkling in the dim light, tsked, her fingers flying over the keyboard to reach the electronic medication administration record. “And you didn’t call earlier?”Mac shrugged, tugging his blanket back over his shoulders. “My mind was – occupied.”She gave him a puzzled look as she handed him the small round white pill. “Well, with the way your white blood cells keep skyrocketing, no wonder you’re having pain. But call earlier next time, Mac. No need to suffer in silence, okay?”Downing the pill without a second thought, Mac just nodded, catching onto her words in a fleeting thought.“What were my counts this morning?”The nurse finished documenting the administration and switched to another screen in the medical record, her eyes quickly reading a long list of data – his data. Blood counts and coagulation studies, viral panels, and organ function indicators. Lacey stepped back over to him, her hands gracefully wrapping the blood pressure cuff over his right arm.“Your white blood cells went above 100,000 again. I suspect Dr. Kang will order another leukapheresis treatment. Since we are starting your treatment protocol today, he’ll want that number to be as low as we can get it. The higher the count of your white blood cells, the higher risk you are for tumor lysis syndrome. We give you chemo, and it kills off the cancer so quick, your kidneys get clogged, and your electrolytes go sky high. If your kidneys can’t filter out uric acid or potassium, your heart can stop functioning properly. We gave you a dose of rasburicase yesterday to lower your uric acid levels already because we thought you were going into spontaneous tumor lysis syndrome, but it was more related to the leukostasis. You just had too many white blood cells. It’s also why we are drawing blood work every six hours.”
Above 100,000 again? Do I get a chance to get off this rocket ship for a second and process what is happening to me? No? Damn.
“Yeah, I read about that syndrome briefly when researching some of the chemotherapy Dr. Kang mentioned. I couldn’t really get past all the side effects.” He had looked up cyclophosphamide and vincristine, both of which were drugs that not only killed his cancer but the rest of him too. Unfortunately, an image of his mom with a colorful scarf on her head had made him stop reading any further, especially when both drugs could cause hair loss. He had a feeling there would come a time when he would have to sport the bald look – he wasn’t ready for that, not by a long shot.Lacey finished taking his vitals, smiling sadly at him while she unhooked the blood pressure cuff. “It’s a lot to take in all at once. If you want to talk –“Mac shook his head, inwardly cringing. He already figured he would get about five lectures from Jack and at least one lecture from every other member of his family. Kicking them all out so shortly after the crushing news was probably not his brightest idea to date.“Good news, your platelets were at 52,000 today, so you don’t need any transfusions. Dr. Kang should be around about 8am for your lumbar puncture. He’ll go over consent and the procedure, but can I answer any questions before I leave?” She stood at the computer, her back to the now-black screen. She was desperate to get him to talk. He didn’t understand why.“Not right now. But thanks.”She almost frowned, his eyes catching her slip before she smiled again, closing the computer up into the wall. “I’ll be back at 6am for another blood draw and see how your pain is. If you need anything, you know to –““Call. Thanks.”When Lacey was finally gone, Mac groaned, letting his head flop back onto the pillow. He didn’t want today to happen. He wasn’t ready for this journey. But when was anyone ever prepared? Who got time to digest the words you have cancer and then magically feel prepared to tackle it head on? Mac wasn’t going to let this beast kill him. But he wanted more time. Time to actually process the implications of this disease and what it was doing to him physically – mentally – emotionally. Everything had happened so quickly – nose bleed to hospital admission to diagnosis. Don’t pass go, don’t collect $200. My game piece is stuck in jail, this hospital room, with no hope of an escape for at least four weeks. I’m gonna go crazy.He glanced up at the ceiling, slowly counting the tiles as the morning sun inched itself through his sixth-floor window. Maybe the window didn’t open, perhaps he was stuck in the same room for hours and days and now weeks on end to fight something that could honestly kill him, but if there was one thing cancer couldn’t do, it was break him.The phone hit his face for the third time in fifteen minutes. His clumsy fingers, clumsier from the recent procedure, wouldn’t hold the phone and type accurately without the phone slipping and slamming into his face every few minutes. It was getting mildly annoying. Thankfully, he had hit ‘send’ on an email to various friends and colleagues just before the latest slip.Telling what felt like the world that he had cancer was one of the hardest things Mac believed he would do that day. Especially when that email included Charlie Robinson, Frankie Mallory, and Carlos. Outside of his tight-knit family, those three were who he had kept in close contact throughout the few years he’d known them all. Frankie from MIT and Charlie and Carlos from the army. Of course, many others were included in that email, along with Matty, who was given permission to tell the Phoenix Foundation of his immediate absence.Sending that email had been far more emotionally conflicting than the recent lumbar puncture. Dr. Kang had breezed into the room at 8am on the dot and quickly gave Mac the nitty gritty of the test and side effects that could happen. The biggest one, besides bleeding, was a headache that could occur afterward because of the shift in spinal fluid components and a small leak from the access site between the vertebrae. They were not only taking a sample, but they would also be injecting chemotherapy into the space as prevention against his cancer from invading his central nervous system.To help mitigate that side effect, Mac was asked to lie flat on his back once the procedure was complete, for at least an hour. It had barely been twenty minutes, and already Mac wanted to get up and move. But he didn’t want the headache – no, thank you!
They should have a tv up in the ceiling for things like this. Like the dentist office. I’d rather watch some boring game show than count the damn ceiling tiles for the sixth time today!
Fortunately, Mac was dragged from his thoughts when someone knocked on his door – not once, not twice, but five times. He didn’t turn his head to look but sensed it was going to be one of his family."Yeah, okay, come in!”Out of his peripheral vision, Mac saw Jack slip into the room. Even though he couldn’t see Jack’s face clearly, he could only guess that the older man was frowning.“Did you break your back?”Mac gave Jack a blank stare.“What? You’re lying all wooden on that bed. I figured something bad happened.”He let out a long-suffering sigh as Jack moved around the bed.Jack sat in the recliner, leaning forward, hand scratching his still unshaved scruff. One night home and still didn’t shave. Go figure. “You still mad?”Mac rolled his eyes. “I’m not mad. I was – processing. I couldn’t do that with you and Matty bickering like children.”“You kicked us all out, bud.”Biting his lip, Mac just huffed out a breath. The nasal cannula tickled, reminding him that Dr. Kang said there would be a second leukapheresis treatment once his one-hour bedrest was complete. Too many white blood cells – too much cancer to try to kill off all at once, lest they try putting Mac into the intensive care unit and on continuous renal replacement therapy. He didn’t want that – no dialysis.“I wanted to be alone, okay? It had nothing to do with you or your outburst. I get it, Jack. You’re worried. I’m worried too. But I have to do what Dr. Kang says. It’s the only way of getting back to work.”“A month out of work is gonna be tough. I don’t know if Matty will let you off the hook for that long.” Jack was teasing, smirking as Mac rolled his eyes once again.“Good thing Oversight is my father.”Jack let that comment linger, a sad smile taking over the smirk.“Processing, huh? Is that what you’re doing now?”Mac wanted to shrug. “More like forced bedrest. I had that lumbar puncture about half an hour ago. Have to lie still on my back for an hour.”Jack burst out laughing, a legitimate laugh echoing throughout the room, hands coming up and covering his mouth from the outburst. “You?! STILL?! For an HOUR?!! Holy shit, do they know how impossible that is for you?! You couldn’t be still for five minutes unless you were tranquilized, man!”That did it. Mac felt himself laugh, the irony of it all hitting him. “Pretty ironic, huh? Been doing it for about thirty minutes. Already want to say fuck it and get up, risk the headache that could come with it. And the bleeding. I dropped my phone on my face three times in fifteen minutes. I will probably go insane before this hour is up.”Jack slapped a hand on his knee, tears coming to the edges of his lashes from such hard laughter. “Ohhh, that’s cruel.”They laughed for a few minutes more, settling down as the clock continued to tick away. Mac grew solemn, sighing.“Yeah, well, I better get used to it. Dr. Kang says if I have the disease in my brain, they’ll be a lot more lumbar punctures. And if there isn’t any disease in my brain, he’ll still want to give me chemotherapy into my spine before each cycle of chemo to keep the cancer from spreading. Every three weeks, I get to do this.”Jack reached out, putting a reassuring hand on Mac’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Mac. And for what it’s worth, I’m not letting you go through that or any of the coming treatments alone. I promise I won’t leave you. I already told Matty to figure out how to put me on leave. I’m gonna eat, sleep, shower, and breathe the same air you do until you can get out of this place. This isn’t fair. You didn’t ask for this. You shouldn’t have to do this on your own.”Mac felt a tear escape his left eye, tracking down the side of his face, hitting his ear. As much as cancer sucked, as much as he did not want to go through this (please be a dream, please be a dream), Mac knew he would never be alone. He had the greatest support on the planet. Jack, Riley, Bozer, Matty, his father, Jill, Penny, Charlie, Frankie, Carlos… everyone. There would not be a moment where Mac would have to face the unknown alone. That was something he trusted with them implicitly. And it comforted him.“Thanks, Jack,” he whispered, reaching a hand back and grasping his partner, his brother, by the wrist, acknowledging that the fight was only beginning. But they would do it together – family, brother, partner, friend.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Brother let me be your shelter / Never leave you all alone / I can be the one you call / When you're low / Brother let me be your fortress / When the night winds are driving on / Be the one to light the way / Bring you home

(Brother by Needtobreathe)
 Cycle one, day one.Mac had swallowed down the threatening fear and despair by making Jack discuss whatever nonsense he could come up with. It had worked for a while – before the first drug, Rituxan, was causing him to shake uncontrollably. Rigors. Not my first time. His temperature spiked to 39 degrees Celsius, and his blood pressure dropped to 87/40. The nurse – bless her heart – tried to reassure Mac and Jack that the reaction he was experiencing was typical for patients who had never been exposed to rituximab before. However, while her reassurances were flimsy, her actions were impeccable. Two blood cultures, a fluid bolus, more intravenous Benadryl, some hydrocortisone, Tylenol, and a small dose of Demerol later – Mac was high on the good stuff. Thankfully, the shaking had passed, and his blood pressure was a healthier number.Chemo – but really a treatment called biotherapy – had started at one in the afternoon. Without a reaction, Mac should have started his actual first chemotherapy bag at about 5pm. That hour came and went with the Rituxan still slowly dripping into him, the bag finally draining right before the evening shift change. The sedating drugs that helped curb the dreaded reaction to the Rituxan had slowly dissipated, Mac coming off his loopy high cranky and threatening damaging retribution, but thankfully no longer feeling like absolute shit.Jack had – most definitely – gotten video proof of Mac on an IV Benadryl, hydrocortisone, and Demerol high. It wasn't the same type of high that came with the good stuff that messed with Mac's head – morphine or Dilaudid, sometimes hefty doses of Phenergan and every Phoenix Medical healthcare personnel knew not to ever give Mac a controlled sleeping medication. He not only hallucinated insane images but tended to sleepwalk out of his house or out of Medical. Now that there was a cancer concoction confirmed to make Mac spacey and a little unsafe outside of healthcare professional watchful eyes, there would be no winning the teasing or jabs many years into the future about this wretched time in his life."You were talking about some Einstein theory, then looked up at the nurse taking your vitals and asked her if she wanted to go out on a date. Nothing phased that little drugged up mind of yours, Mac. I couldn't hold in my laughter."Cranky didn't even begin to describe Mac's facial expression as Jack discussed the past few hours. His lips were set in a firm, thin line, eyes bright but glaring daggers at his best friend and partner. He bit back, "Don't you dare show that video to anyone, ever, Jack Wyatt Dalton. Or I will involve Riley in your demise."Jack managed to hold back another giggle, his grin a mile wide, face red with pent-up glee, left-hand flush to his chest. He was about to reply when they were interrupted by a knock on the door, and Mac's day nurse and his night nurse, Lacey, came breezing into the room.Lacey held up a substantial IV bag of unsuspecting fluid – except, it was encased in a large zip-lock with a giant sign saying, ‘chemotherapy drug – hazardous material – handle with proper PPE and dispose of in designated bins.' The fluid was also an orange-red color. The prior moment of irritation and laughter was dimmed by the sight of Mac's next infusion cocktail."Are we ready for some chemo?" Lacey gently set the bag on the sink counter, turning to give Mac and Jack a smile.Mac wanted to ask why the chemo was orange-red, but Jack beat him to it."That's not really a normal color. Is it supposed to be red?!"The day nurse hung a new primary line, placing it into the pump and then connecting the line to Mac's triple-lumen left PICC line. She was quick to answer. "Doxorubicin, one of your chemotherapy drugs, is naturally red. You might even have orange to red-tinged urine for a few days. Completely expected and not a harmful side effect."Lacey's quick fingers tapped on the keyboard, logging into the electronic medical record and pulling up the medication administration record. The two nurses jointly double-checked the drug against the computer, then double-checked that the drug was for the right person: Angus MacGyver. They verified his birthday and the medical record number now associated with his current hospital stay. Finally, Lacey - in her stylish blue non-permeable chemotherapy gown - connected the secondary tubing to the priming tubing. The pump primed, bringing the drug just to the beginning of the blue lumen on Mac's PICC line.She programmed in the appropriate settings, the day nurse double-checking the calculations. A moment later, Lacey turned towards Mac. "Are we ready?"The IV line was that odd orange-red color. Mac gave it a good long stare, thoughts racing too fast to notice what he was actually calculating or conjuring up in that big ol' brain of his. If Rituxan could cause him to shake, spike a fever, and get super light headed from low blood pressure - then the combination of chemotherapy drugs ready to drip into him that was targeted at every rapidly dividing cell in his body was going to be ten times worse.
Cardiac injury. Bowel obstruction. Diarrhea or constipation, or even both! Painful mouth sores. Nausea and vomiting. No ability to fight infection - ha, my cancer already has the chemo beat there! Kidney failure. Liver failure. Losing - losing my hair. Loss of appetite and loss of weight. I'm gonna be bald and definitely look sick... Loss of fertility - but males have a better chance of regenerating sperm than females do with all their eggs exposed to these toxic chemicals. But this will save my life. Even if I lose feeling in my fingers. Even if I can never - never diffuse another bomb. If I have to live with numbness and tingling and burning until I am old and gray. If I have to find another job. If I can't do the things I love and enjoy - well, it won't matter. It won't matter - because this, right here - it is going to save my life.
It wouldn't be a fast infusion. Twenty-four milliliters per hour. The constant attack on cancer circulating in his bloodstream, inhibiting his body's ability to fight infection, give his tissues oxygen, and keep him from bleeding out.A firm but gentle hand found rest on Mac's right shoulder, a reassuring squeeze by a friend - a partner - a brother.Swallowing hard, Mac nodded.Lacey pushed start on the pump, and the beginning of Mac's defense against anaplastic diffuse large b-cell lymphoblastic lymphoma began - biotherapy, chemotherapy, and steroids.The day nurse left, and Lacey was left to flit about the room during her mandatory fifteen minutes at the bedside, chatting away about her dog, bird, and two cats. Her nonstop hands took vitals, listened to Mac's heart, lungs, and bowel sounds, words penetrating an ever-rising panic of despair.Once again, Mac masked the despair well, going along with the charade. Answering questions when prompted, bantering with Jack, and quick, frequent glances at the drugs now coursing through his veins - etoposide, doxorubicin, and vincristine.The overwhelming emotion caught up to him as Lacey went to care for her other patients, promising to return to check up on him and see how he was feeling while teasing the blessed removal of the IJ line still glaring out of his left neck. But even with that to fill the dull ache of hospital boredom, Mac knew it was just the same shit, just a different day. More vitals, more blood work, more fluids - Mac was sure he was starting to feel somewhat over hydrated, his ankles slowly disappearing behind bulging gray socks with grips. Hospital special 101! He picked wordlessly at the fuzzy blanket Bozer had brought from home, a tight web of anxiety and sadness settling in the center of his chest.A shift in Jack's posture. "Hey bud, what ya thinkin' 'bout?"A beat of silence. "Pa-paperclip?"Jack frowned, noticing the slip on the word. Most of Mac's distraction items had been moved off the bedside table, sitting on the small table in the corner, on the window ledge, or hidden in the wardrobe. The paperclips had ended up on the window sill, the box so far unopened. Now that's not normal. Mac was always fiddling with something, most commonly a paperclip - making it from boring ol' nothing into a ridiculous new shape.Pulling a few clips from the box, Jack set them on the blanket, watching as Mac hesitantly took one, fingers nimbly starting to unshape and reshape.This was not a new occurrence. Mac got lost in his own mind almost daily. But the faraway look and the absolute gut-wrenching sadness deep in those eyes told Jack it was much more than just physics, chemistry, history, or problem solving going on in that genius brain. Jack, against his better judgment, would wait for his best friend to speak first.Companionable silence as the IV pump clicked, the telemetry monitor traced the steady beat of Mac's heart, and the quiet ministrations of fingers twisting and turning an unyielding metal.Ten minutes passed before Mac set down the paperclip, fingers reaching for a second. The first one - an outline of a house - gave Jack pause."Do you want to talk about it?"Maybe not the best choice of words, Jack mused, but Mac was crawling deep inside that brain of his, and if Jack didn't do something, he could ultimately lose what sanity he had left during this whole situation. Cancer diagnosis, thirty-day hospital admission, chemotherapy, kidney issues, possible heart ramifications, and sidelined from work for the insurmountable future. Jack was having a hard time keeping himself neatly tied up in a bow for Mac's sake - how the hell was his boy managing to look so small and so lost without breathing a word?Both hands stilled on the current paperclip art, Mac not even allowing himself to look Jack in the eye."What - what if this doesn't work?"Another gut-punch, another unharnessed, irrational fear. Oh, Mac."We don't know if it will or won't work. We can't - we don't have the luxury to speculate. We have to be strong, be positive. Because nothing in this world, most of all fucking cancer, can take you from me."The first visible tear slipped down Mac's cheek.Jack was there, right there at Mac's side, as he started to shake, and the panic from within could no longer be held inside."I - I - I - du - du - don't - don't want to die. No, please, no. Don't let me die, Jack. Don't let me die."Mac is blissfully asleep. Jack? Not so much.He assumes this will become the norm - minimal sleep, sleeping in this god-awful chair every night until Mac finally gets the okay to leave the room and hospital without a second thought of who, why, when, or how. But Jack, as much as he wants to be awake for every little detail of Mac's hospital stay, hovering over the nurses and every little move they make, knows that he has to sleep eventually. And soon, the reality of the diagnosis will set in, and it will become second nature to the pair - blood counts, transfusions, neutrophil count, electrolytes, dressing changes, blood draws, chemotherapy, and everything else in between.Not long after the panic attack of the century, Mac had sobered up, fiddling a little longer with the paperclips, creating a chair, and an unfortunate version of Sparky. Jack had laughed, befuddled by what Mac had conjured up. When the answer came out, Jack almost peed his pants from laughing so hard. Mac, unamused, actually got to wack Jack upside the head with a clean emesis basin.Lacey finally returned, her promise to remove the IJ line fulfilled. Mac did well, sighing relief as the line disappeared, and all he was tethered by was his PICC line and the pesky five telemetry stickers. Hopefully, soon, he wouldn't be hooked up to much other than his pole, but tonight was not that night.After changing into pajama bottoms and brushing his teeth, Mac managed to fall asleep, quiet breaths evening out as he lay curled in the drab hospital bed, face turned toward Jack's restless form.The normal may change, but the objective never would. Get better, get home, get back to the Phoenix. Period.
Mac's gonna lose his hair. Gonna lose weight - the already skinny-as-hell kid who needs about two good steaks and fifteen pounds of potatoes. The kid who loves to run and tinker with just about every object within his reach. There is gonna be so much life he won't get to experience during these few months of treatment. And I hate it, hate all of it. It isn't fair. God, why did you do this to him? Why Mac?
But in the midst of all the weary sorrow settling into Jack's heart, he came up with a sneaky plan to make Mac's hospital stay just a little bit brighter, a little bit more like home.He was on Amazon in seconds, a group e-mail message to friends and family in minutes. Time to make this hospital stay a hospital party!

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Remember me with smiles and laughter, for that is how I will remember you all. If you can only remember me with tears, then don’t remember me at all
(Laura Ingalls Wilder)The bed rustled as Mac took his time rolling over, both eyes squeezed tight against the glowing light from the computer. Another platelet transfusion. All he wanted was sleep. Cycle one day two, and Mac was so over the vitals, the interruptions, the medications, and the constant fluids. Drink this; well, let’s put this through your PICC line; ready for chemo? It never ended. Light snoring came from the recliner in the corner. At least Jack can sleep. A long, dreary day of little sleep was ahead. One of us needs the rest, might as well be Jack.The blood pressure cuff inflated, and Mac felt Lacey hook the last PICC lumen up to the designated blood platelet tubing, the temporal thermometer brushing across his forehead moments later. I wonder when I’ll lose my hair...With a start, Mac blinked his eyes open. Something - woke me? He quickly realized that sleep had taken over before his platelets had even been hung, his eyes now adjusting to the new dawn peeking in through the window blinds. Glancing toward the recliner, Mac slowly sighed. Jack was gone – the blanket neatly folded over the back of the hospital chair. A quick glance at the IV pole confirmed that nothing had changed – a steady drip of sodium bicarb to help his kidneys and the red chemo ominous in the new daylight. The bag was half gone – but Mac was nowhere near halfway through his treatment, let alone this first cycle. Cancer was a bastard like that, needing multiple hits by varying drugs to hopefully disappear forever.If only cancer were that easy to get rid of – but even if Mac’s specific subtype of non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma wasn’t as quickly eradicated or didn’t have a ton of research, many cancers had drug upon drug, new treatments, and cures through revolutionary discoveries. Multiple first-line treatments involved immunotherapy and biotherapy mixed with chemo. A few were chemo free, like specific treatments for multiple myeloma. But Mac also knew myeloma had no cure – kind of like his own diagnosis.He had spent a little too much time skimming the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society website, hunting down every last shred of information he could about anaplastic diffuse large b-cell lymphoblastic lymphoma. It was a lost cause - the diagnose hidden under multiple pages, like non-Hodgkin's lymphoma, lymphoblastic lymphoma, and anaplastic large cell lymphoma. Even more unfortunate was the lack of clinical trial information on the website - Mac was not very interested in calling them yet, especially since Dr. Kang was throwing the best treatment at him on the first try. At least, that’s what the bare basics said online.His own mortality was a flickering flame, shimmering in the back of his ever-racing thoughts. I could die. All of this could be for naught. But, determined to beat the demons rampaging through his head, Mac just pushed those thoughts aside. No matter what, this beast called anaplastic diffuse large b-cell lymphoblastic lymphoma would not take him down – not if he had anything to say or do about it.After a quick trip to relieve himself, Mac settled back on the bed, legs crisscrossed, phone at the ready. He pulled up Google, typing in ‘ana,’ the rest of his diagnosis swiftly auto-populating. It was a sobering thought, Google and his phone already memorizing his specific cancer. He’d searched it so many times, he could probably spell the entire name backward – in his sleep.A soft knock pulled his attention away from the phone. Huh, seriously, what happened to Jack?The door quietly opened after he called ‘come in!’, a familiar and friendly face stepping into the room. “Hey, Mac.”“Jill!”They briefly hugged, Jill trying to avoid the lines and bandages that took up Mac’s small-enough stature. Mac patted the bed, giving her the universal sign for sitting at the edge.“How are you feeling?”Mac shrugged, frowning. “Not much has changed since you were last here. I’ve started the chemo. Dr. Kang still thinks I’ll have to stay the entire cycle because of the likelihood of complications, but he hasn’t come in yet today. Still too early for the doctors.”“Matty sent out the memo on you. I swear all of Phoenix started stockpiling their odds and ends for you to keep your hand's busy while in the hospital. Matty mentioned she would bring over what she could, possibly this evening.”The text messages on his phone had exploded late afternoon the day before, every Tom, Dick, and Harry at the Phoenix Foundation sending him well wishes and everything in between. Even Riley and Bozer had kept up a string of conversation as the chemo started a relentless battle in his body. Notable absences in all those texts – Matty and his father. Director of Field Operations is always busy. Oversight, same. They can’t be with me twenty-four seven - unlike Jack.“Tell them thank you for me.”Jill smiled, squeezing Mac’s knee. “Of course. And I didn’t just come to make small talk.” She reached into her bag, pulling three brightly colored and carefully crafted origami cranes from the depths.“I had originally just made origami figures for fun and stress relief. Like the one I gave you a few days ago.” She pointed at the first crane sitting with Mac’s on-display knick-knacks. “But there is a story about how if you make one thousand cranes, you can have a wish granted. I’d never ask you to make one thousand cranes – they each take quite some time to fold and master – but I decided to make you one for each day you are in treatment. No matter how long that takes. These are for diagnosis day, cycle one day one, and today, cycle one day two. I won’t bring them by every day, but I just wanted you to know that’s how I’m going to be cheering you on.”Mac didn’t know how to respond – stunned speechlessness written all over his face. He held the three paper cranes in his cupped hands, giving them a good long look. Blue, red, green, yellow, brown – every color in the rainbow – punctuated by light and dark, shimmering, and dull areas, all colors blending into three beautiful masterpieces. Jill was an incredibly smart and talented agent – a truly wonderful friend.When Mac eventually found his voice, he nodded, whispering, “Thank you.”“I sorely miss you in the lab. Come back as soon as you can, okay?”He grinned. “I’m gonna try.”Feeling lightheaded and out of breath, Mac stopped at a bench along the wall about halfway around the unit, sitting with a heavy sigh. Who knew walking around the unit a couple of times could wind him so much?His body was continuing to ache, even as the chemotherapy started to work its magic and kill off the fast-growing lymphocytes causing his long bones to feel like vice grips were twisting and turning and squeezing. His white blood cells had been just below twenty-five thousand that morning. It meant the chemo really was knocking down the bad cells. However, Dr. Kang was not impressed with Mac’s electrolytes or kidney labs. The sodium bicarb infusion wasn’t being as effective as possible, and Mac’s creatinine was continuing to climb, now hovering at 1.9. Along with elevated potassium, elevated phosphorus, and high uric acid, all signs screamed tumor lysis syndrome. It was a risk Dr. Kang had to expect with starting anti-cancer therapy, even if he knew it was a challenging oncological emergency to manage. The plan? Moderate diuresis with some furosemide, hoping to decrease the amount of potassium in the bloodstream. Phosphate binder pills added to Mac’s scheduled medications to be taken with meals. And finally, another dose of Rasburicase later that evening to bind with the uric acid and help eliminate it from causing injury in Mac’s body.Dr. Kang tried to suggest possible emergent dialysis, but Mac was severely adamant about not traveling down that path. He wanted nothing to do with dialysis, not even emergently. Jack tried to mediate the brewing argument, his return from the hospital cafeteria timed perfectly with Dr. Kang’s speech about how important the kidneys and the heart were to a functioning body, but it was a lost cause. No matter the science behind the possibly necessary dialysis, Mac refused – consequences be damned. Dr. Kang eventually dropped the subject, allowing for the already discussed treatments to continue and more focused monitoring. It meant Mac wasn’t getting off the telemetry monitor any time soon.Mac’s day nurse, Colin, came in shortly after the doctor left, his focus on completing an assessment and making sure Mac was doing okay. Colin handed out the appropriate pills, reciting off their names and reason for administration without missing a beat. Acyclovir was to prevent chickenpox and herpes virus. Fluconazole was to prevent certain fungal infections. Prednisone was a part of the chemotherapy regimen. Zofran was to help keep nausea and vomiting at bay. Add in the furosemide to bring down the potassium levels in Mac’s bloodstream and possibly help the kidneys out, Mac downed all five pills in one swallow.Not even thirty minutes later, Mac was peeing. And peeing. And peeing. And peeing. Two hours later, the urge to urinate every five seconds finally dissipated. Colin exclaimed that Mac had peed out over three liters – all of it a brilliant red-orange tinge. It was a good sign for his kidneys – but not a good sign for Mac’s overall mood, considering it was the chemotherapy turning his urine red.Mac wasn’t hungry for lunch; instead, he dragged Jack out of the room for a walk around the unit. Typically, Mac was an extremely active individual – heaving weights at least three times a week, taking runs into the foothills near his house every morning he was home (and not on a mission), and some light yoga if he had time. But between cancer, the brewing side effects, the symptomatic hyperleukocytosis, and now the probable tumor lysis syndrome – Mac was tired, achy, and cranky. Limited energy was barely letting him take a shower and dress each day – a few laps around the unit were hardly an accomplishment.A handful of other patients were taking walks that early afternoon, two patients out with walkers, and a physical therapist. Mac wondered if he would ever need assistance with walking or going to the bathroom. The thought alone made him shiver where he sat. Thankfully, Jack didn’t notice, his head engrossed in his phone.“The Angels lost again last night. Don’t think they’ll make the World Series. Good riddance.”Mac just shrugged, leaning his head against the pole and resting his eyes. He wasn’t sure he could make it back to the room without assistance. This was a mistake. Heeled shoes came clicking down the hall, Mac looking up just in time to be smothered by one Penny Parker.“Oh, Mac! It has been dreadful without you! Please, get well soon, okay?”A wrapped package – complete with a bow – and another non-descript parcel were promptly shoved into Jack’s torso, Penny giving him a look of disdain.“Bozer wanted me to deliver these since he is caught up with work. He’ll be over later this evening or tomorrow morning with another gift.”Jack’s eyes lit up, phone forgot as he gleefully took the two items. “Perfect!”Releasing from Penny’s hug, Mac gave Jack a look of curiosity and concern. “Oh, what have you all planned?”Jack just hummed, tucking his phone back into a jean pocket. “Hmm? Oh, oh nothing.” He just smiled, hugging both packages to his body. “I’m just going to take these both back to the room. Penny, make him do another couple laps. Then you can come back to the room.”Mac started to protest, giving Jack a sideways death glare as Penny yanked Mac up from the bench, her arm looped snuggly around his right arm, her body dragging him and the associated pole down the hall. In the direction opposite Mac’s room. Wait! “But –“Jack’s form disappeared, Mac grunting as Penny chided him about not keeping up. They walked the circle twice more. Mac eventually, forcefully and a little too high-pitched to represent a mildly grateful person, told Penny he had absolutely no energy, and he didn’t want to walk anymore. She had given him a frown, asking him what had happened to him. Mac could only give her a look of exhausted disdain. She didn’t really understand what he was going through.She dropped him off at his room, kissing both cheeks and waving good-bye, her heels clicking on down the hallway, towards – freedom. Mac stood on shaking, somewhat wobbly legs, watching her walk away. He needed to get back to bed - or he was going to fall down.But he stood there for a moment, wistfulness filtering through his mind. He wanted to follow – but he knew better. Not only did he not have the energy to get out the main door in and out of the unit (an easy wire switch and the fail-safe would break, allowing for a breezy walk into the visitor’s lounge and multitude of elevators), let alone downstairs to the main hospital lobby, but the IV pole was a glaring sidekick Mac wasn’t willing to kick. As much as chemotherapy was not a walk in the park, it had the best potential to save Mac’s life. And he wanted to get out of the hospital – when Dr. Kang gave him the okay to leave – and get back to problem-solving with the Phoenix Foundation. Going now – when he had no immune system, no actual functioning white blood cells to fight infection, let alone a cold, and barely enough platelets to keep him from bleeding out all over the ground – would cost him dearly. It would probably cost him his life.Mac had taken risks in all the years he had walked across the globe. Accidentally burning down the school football stadium. Messing with one too many explosive materials. Theoretical analysis and insane projects at MIT. Enlisting in the army before even his second year at MIT was over and picking up the one most dangerous job there could be – Explosive Ordinance Disposal. Disarming and dismantling bomb after bomb after bomb in practice and in the real world – Afghanistan and eventually around the world. Painfully watching his mentor and friend be blown up. Anger and revenge seething under barely-old-enough skin. Meeting Jack Dalton and facing ridiculous odds. Joining the Department of External Services and resigning with the Phoenix Foundation.And everything else in between that sparked the fire in Mac’s whirling brain, problems aplenty in his mind, solutions literally pouring from his neurons. He had risked his life in many situations. Today, he would not risk it with a simple infection. No matter how much he was desperate to get back to work, his place was in the hospital, fighting a different type of battle. One within himself.Running a hand through his raggedy hair, Mac stepped back into his room, body screaming for the bed. After hooking up the telemetry leads and plugging in the pole, Mac flopped onto the bed, head buried in the pillow. The usual familiar presence was absent – again.The bathroom door creaked open, Jack’s head peeking out. He was hoping – ah, brother. Mac was sound asleep, breathing even and unlabored. Jack shook his head, sighing. His surprise would just have to wait. Another quick second in the bathroom and Jack was dressed in his usual tee and jeans. The small parcel was notably missing from Jack’s arms, the bigger package carefully set on the table, a clear message on the wrapping: For Mac; open cycle one day three.The recliner was becoming slightly uncomfortable. Eventually, Jack was going to need better accommodations – however, he was not leaving Mac’s side. Someone mentioned a cot… I’m gonna go hunt down a nurse.One hand gently carded through Mac’s sweat-soaked hair, another hand massaging a brewing headache. No one said chemotherapy, let alone cancer, would be easy. The challenges looming before Team Improvise were vast and almost incomprehensible. It was Mac who had to suffer the treatments, the side effects, and everything in between – but it was the entire group that would be by his side through every IV, every episode of pain, every little detail. They would have a shared experience because that was what found families did.Sure, the nurses could hand out an entire binder filled with names and dates and side effects, along with associated medications and tips with tricks to stem said side effects, but it didn’t really focus on the psychological or social dynamics associated with chemo and cancer. Jack was the conduit between Mac and the rest of the team, especially when the Phoenix Foundation had to continue day-to-day tasks. Every mission that needed Mac would have to find someone else – even if there was really no one who could do the same things Mac spontaneously conjured up.It was only cycle one day two, but between the initial diagnosis, the brewing tumor lysis syndrome, and some heavy-duty chemotherapy – the side effects were already hitting Mac pretty hard.With the increase in electrolyte levels, continuous chemotherapy, and cancer slogging through Mac’s veins, it was only a matter of time before the side effects took a toll. Mac woke up from his nap, vomiting up whatever breakfast had still been in his stomach, dry heaves continuing even after all the bile seemed fully expelled. IV nausea medications and a cold cloth later, Mac was fighting back persistent nausea, eyes closed in morbid defeat. Eventually worn out, Mac had curled into a ball, his head resting on the bunched up blankets at the foot of the bed. Jack, concerned and wishing to take away all the pain and discomfort Mac was experiencing, dragged one of the table chairs over to the bed, talking nonsense and running fingers through blond strands.Colin stepped back into the room, a handful of washcloths, two emesis bags, and another medication in his arms.“How’s the nausea?”Mac mumbled something, and Colin took that as a sign of not so great.“I’m gonna put on something called a scopolamine patch, behind your ear, which is another type of nausea medication we can use that lasts about seventy-two hours before we have to switch the patch. Side effects can include dry mouth, dizziness, and blurred vision.”Mac mentioned that drug once… oh. “Is that safe to give?”Colin gave Jack a perplexed look as he signed into the medical record. “Give it all the time, especially to people experiencing persistent nausea. It’s safe.”“Mac –““I’ll be fine, Jack.” Before he could explain more, Mac was sitting up and dry heaving over the edge of the bed, a green emesis bag held tightly in a shaky grip.Jack felt helpless, slowly rubbing circles into Mac’s back as Colin took control. It felt like hours before the heaving stopped, the scopolamine patch in place behind Mac’s left ear, his body sagging against the mattress once more. Fingers gradually resumed their tender methodical cares, Jack’s strong but low voice starting to sing.
Well, I started out down a dirty road; started out all alone… And the sun – oh, it went down as I crossed the hill…

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

It's like the brightest sunrise Waiting on the other side of the darkest night Don't ever lose hope, hold on and believe Maybe you just haven't seen it, just haven't seen it yet

(Haven’t Seen It Yet by Danny Gokey) 
Yesterday had escaped him. Phoenix work never ended - a constant revolving door of missions, agents in other countries, and the ever-critical need for plausible deniability. Wilt Bozer had never meant to become a spy - it had sort of fallen into his lap like film school had sort of escaped his fingers a few years ago. Times had changed, objectives reworked, and the world always marched forward with unending goals. Monsters had to be defeated, and terrorists stopped before the next bomb blew. Even if film school was far in the rear-view mirror, Bozer had so many chances to keep up his talents of makeup and disguises.Work was running through Bozer’s mind as he dressed that morning, an urgency in his actions and quickness in his steps. 
Gotta get that mask to Agent Sharpe, build two new ears for Erica, and draw up a makeup composite for Brandon to take to Switzerland.
“Boze, man, will you hurry up?”Dark brown eyes almost rolled, but Bozer shoved his pride back into the growing pit of anxiety swirling in his abdomen. Picking up the backpack, a wrapped package snug under his arm, Bozer finally tipped his head towards the mirror and slipped out of the room. Eyes briefly passed over Mac’s closed bedroom door, a moment of pause to give for anything he could bring his roommate whittling away the days in the boring hospital. But Jack would have said something, and Riley was getting mighty impatient standing at the front door.Watching his best friend begin the ultimate battle against cancer left a bad taste in Bozer’s mouth. He’d barely eaten since Mac had been admitted to UCLA Medical Center, and Bozer loved food. Loved cooking too, which had also fallen to the wayside as more pressing matters took over the precious time the young man had between work, managing the house, and keeping a brave face. Everyone was trying to be so sympathetic to him as if he were the one with cancer. Sure, Mac was his best friend, and they had been roommates for quite some time, but Bozer was fine. The nagging pit of anxiety now settled in Bozer’s stomach was another matter altogether – fear for his brother’s health and uncertain future.While being on the sidelines sucked immensely, Bozer could only imagine how Mac was really doing – physically, emotionally, and mentally. Not able to problem solve or tinker had to be stressing Mac out. Boredom did not suit Angus MacGyver one bit, and everyone knew it – notably Jack. Jack had the perfect idea to shower Mac with games and brain teasers, along with stupid things to make him laugh. The package tucked under an arm would bring endless hours of entertainment for a man stuck in a hospital bed with no escape in sight any time soon. If anything, they were all trying to make the best of a really shitty situation. Eyebrows rose in concern. “Are you ready?”He briskly nodded, the cobwebs and anxious thoughts dissipating from his brain. Bozer threw the backpack over his shoulder and smiled. “Hospital time.”The room had gotten exponentially more crowded with the addition of a sleeping cot. Thankfully, with the help of Colin and Lacey the evening before, the place flowed without hindrance in care or comfort. After a quick bag change, Mac continued with the chemotherapy, his nausea staying consistent the entire night. When exhaustion eventually hit Mac like a sledgehammer at two in the morning, Jack could only brush a few strands of hair out of the kid’s heavy-lidded eyes and gently wrap the dark blue blanket across a weak and worn-down body. The bed just wasn’t cutting it with the persistent feeling of an upset stomach, Mac stealing the recliner just after midnight. A loose grip held a clean emesis bag - just in case.Jack slept on and off, stretched out on the cot, one eye always trained on his kid, the other eye trying to get his brain to quiet for but a moment. How do I get him through this? How do I keep my kid alive when I can’t even keep him from getting sick? I can try to cheer him up, but there is absolutely nothing I can do to prevent any of this happening to him. This isn’t a mission in France, or an assignment in Afghanistan, where I can be his protector. This is life or death, a battle within Mac’s body.   Describing the night as rough was an understatement. While feeling like absolute shit, Mac got angry – about everything. And Jack knew anger was not Mac’s usual emotion to express. Missions abroad had the tendency to bring out Mac’s frustration, but nothing like now. Jack tried hard to rationalize the emotions coursing through Mac’s mind - anger, sadness, worry and anxiety, fear, frustration, and barely any hope - but his kid wasn’t ready for the solution quite yet. Getting admitted to an unfamiliar hospital without any warning, learning he had a terrifying and life-threatening disease, and now having a swinging mood related to side effects that had only just begun? Jack honestly couldn’t imagine what Mac was thinking or feeling, even when the kid tried desperately to express his internal thoughts in some unproductive ways.Pent up anger at the diagnosis, pent up fear at the situation hanging over their heads. Mac’s kidneys were only marginally better, but Dr. Kang was still suggesting treatment with dialysis. Mac wanted to say he was fine, he didn’t need any of this treatment, he was ready to go home now – but logically, he knew that wasn’t an argument he could make. He was too nauseous, too fatigued to not understand what was happening to him, the slow descent into sickness, and loss of independence. If dialysis didn’t happen, it meant things were okay. That Mac could fight and would get through this. Hold such treatment at arm’s length and pray the chemo kicked ass, and the two filtering organs bounced back. A probable lost cause, but Mac was determined to stick to his hunches on this one. But denial of the inevitable was only the beginning. Mac didn’t want to be sick; he wanted to go home.Nothing seemed to distract Mac from the nagging puke, even when Jack offered to play a game or help Mac with brushing his teeth. Lashing out at whoever was nearby, whether it was Jack or poor Lacey, Mac threw all his pillows and yelled that he didn’t want any help, didn’t want to do this anymore. Even with his legs shaking and a white-knuckled grip on the IV pole, Mac wouldn’t let Jack come close on a mission for independence to the bathroom.Lacey, bless her sweet nature, kept a smile on her face, offering to help Mac keep his independence. There was a weariness in Mac’s features, the battle within draining him even faster than the cancer was attacking. Mac attempted to get ready for bed, but never actually got there. Wrecked and defeated, Mac had sagged to the bathroom floor, his diaphragm betraying him. What little Mac managed to sip earlier in the evening came back up, a mix of stomach acid, ginger ale, and water.For the most part, Jack tried to keep his distance after the bathroom struggle, the clock ticking past eleven o’clock at night, the sun long gone. Mac never explicitly yelled at Jack to leave, but the tension was there. Restlessness, coupled with fatigue, made Mac even angrier, unable to do much for himself, and still feel useful. The box of paperclips and a deck of cards appeared on the bed, while Jack faked sleeping on the cot as Mac started to take his frustration out on the metal he had so often conjured into beautiful and spectacular creations.Morning came too quick. Jack sat up and stretched, a yawn escaping. His eyes tracked Mac’s slow shuffle from the recliner to the bathroom, defeat set into sore and tired bones. Cycle one, day three.        Nothing new. Nothing different. Same dance, a different day on the calendar. Except -It was just after eight in the morning, and Jack’s phone was buzzing, alerting him to a text. He picked it up, skimming the message. A smile started to grow, a grin plastered on his face as Mac stepped from the bathroom and a sharp knock echoed throughout the room.Two faces peered in through the window. A quick wave came from both friends as they dumped into the room, arms filled with one bulging backpack and another package like the one still sitting lonely on the bedside table.Mac sat slowly on the bed, a small smile on his face. “Hey.”Riley planted a kiss on Mac’s forehead, her hands lightly rubbing his pale fingers. “Hey, little brother. You causing trouble with Uncle Jack?”The oversized backpack was dumped onto the cot, Bozer slipping his jacket off in the same motion. Jack was about to argue the question Riley had posed, but Mac spoke first.“More like I was the one causing trouble. Sorry, Jack. About last night.”The older man waved a hand like it was no big deal. “Don’t sweat it, partner. There will be hard days and easy days. We can weather any storm.”Before Mac could respond, Riley and Bozer started up a roaring conversation with Mac about current Phoenix gossip. This gave Jack the perfect moment to reveal his surprise. While the trio started laughing about a lab incident, Jack quietly slipped into the bathroom. The outfit change was quick, maybe five minutes, all the details in place. He smiled at the reflection in the mirror. Genius.The bathroom door flung open, and Jack walked out, hands on his hips. “Howdy, partners.”Mac looked up from the half-opened package in his lap, the writing open cycle one day three obscured by his hasty ripping, half of a word written on some game box reading ckers. Digesting Jack’s look, it took a moment before Jack’s shirt made sense.Bozer smirked, shaking his head in quiet laughter. “Never thought I would see the day.”“You actually did it.” Riley was visibly tearing up with laughter. Seeing her surrogate father dressed up in cowboy boots, spurs, legit light brown leather chaps, a huge Texas belt buckle, a worn cowboy hat, and a regular t-shirt that read ‘Yeehaw!-nu Reeves’ was far more hysterical than watching Jack flounder through one of Mac’s science projects. There was no comment from the patient. He carefully finished unwrapping the present in his lap, a small smile playing at his lips upon seeing the full contents. There was a kaleidoscope colored box filled with four homemade chocolate chip cookies, the Checkers game, the card game Nertz, and an open-faced card screaming his name in Penny’s cursive handwriting.    
LOVE YOU, ANGUS MACGYVER!!!
“Um, Mac?”The pale kid with bruises under both eyes and sweat-soaked hair finally looked up, a bubble of laughter in his chest. Worrying about nausea, Mac tamped down on the feeling of illness, trying to revel at the moment.      “Yeehaw-nu - I mean, Jesus Jack.” All four busted into hysterics, Jack coming to lean against the door frame, wiping a tear from his eye.Mac was still laughing as he rubbed a particularly sore spot on his forehead. He’d basically slept on it for a good part of the night, sleeping sitting up in the recliner. A glance back down at the games in his lap and an idea came to him. “Guys. Let’s play Nertz. Do you have time?” He looked up at Riley, sitting to his left, and then Bozer, who was seated to his right.Riley and Bozer glanced at each other. Matty had never told them the exact time they had to be at work that morning, and it was only nine. They could play for a little bit, right?“As long as it ain’t Uno, I’m in!” Riley playfully smacked Bozer from behind, narrowly missing Mac, her laugh echoing through the room. “Just because you hate to lose!”Opaque windows - this meeting was serious. Strolling into the War Room, James MacGyver silently closed the door behind him, the magnetic lock clicking with finality.The Phoenix Foundation was buzzing. Once Matilda Webber hit ‘send’ on the agency-wide memo network relating to Angus ‘Mac’ MacGyver, everyone was walking and murmuring in the halls, in restroom stalls, and at computer stations. Sharp glares from Oversight sent analysts, lab assistants, and computer techs scattering like cockroaches on a frenzy.The senior MacGyver had not discussed his son’s diagnosis with anyone. After leaving the hospital on the day of diagnosis, he had not returned, his mind and attention elsewhere. Like the brewing unrest in Brazil. A caravan of terrorists - rumored to be ISIL - fleeing across Yemen. An uprising in the Philippines. The world did not rest nor stop completely, even in times of personal conflict and tragedy.Phoenix was one team down - one good team down. No one could master the spontaneous, complicated solutions like Angus. While Jack Dalton was a sore thumb in the mechanism of a fast-paced, smoothly run organization, the soldier had dedicated his resources, time, and friendship to protect Angus in all situations. At home and in the field. And in the hospital.The other two members, the computer hacker, and film director wannabe were more placement of pawns in the grand scheme of things, but generally useful when Team Improvise - so per Matty’s expression of their closeness and cohesiveness in the field - tackled very unusual problems. But they continued to come into Phoenix headquarters to keep up surveillance, disguises for other teams, and keep the think tank cover moving forward as necessary.It had only been six days since Angus had been admitted unexpectedly, but the Foundation was beginning to feel the stress of managing the world without its star pupil. The same had occurred only a few short months ago when Angus had angrily quit the agency and ran off to Africa. After significant reconciliation, and some Jack upheaval, Angus returned.Things were still somewhat stilted between father and son. At a time when Angus needed a father’s support and reassurance - especially amid a cancer diagnosis - Jim had grown distant. Over three days of radio silence. And Matilda Webber knew it. She was a smart lady like that, always observant and straight-to-the-point. Her small stature did not sway anyone’s opinion of her fierceness and bold command, appropriately appointed title Director of Field Operations.The Director sat in an oversized chair at the front of the room, fingers tapping away on a linked tablet. The screen up front flipped past maps and associated dots, her focus unphased by the newcomer.Standing at parade rest just to the right of the Director’s chair, Jim didn’t speak - watching and waiting with careful eyes and ears.Minutes passed before the fingers stilled; no other movement detected from the chair.“We should talk, Jim.”Continuing to keep silent, Jim only nodded once. His eyes flickered to the screen, a basic map of UCLA Ronald Reagan Medical Center pulled up. He had expected no less of a confrontation from her.Their history went back years - long before Angus was old enough to be stupid, long before Matilda stepped into one of the highest ranks in the world at the Phoenix Foundation. She had her opinions and retorts. They were not new at this charade. Unfortunately, new territory was at the door, ready to be explored.
My son has cancer.
A lot of emotions had circulated the moment Jim learned of his son’s fate. Not life or death per se, but a literal fight for something more. From the outside, Jim’s silence likely conjured up ignorance and denial about his son’s condition. Not talking about it, not visiting, and continuing to command a covert spy agency - well, it looked bad. Even if it was well within his right to express frustration, worry, even take a leave of absence to be with Angus… even to visit his son. But compartmentalizing the new relationship was only part of the equation. There were many forks in the road to come, and Jim was trying to stay ahead of the threatening crash of grief.Angus remembered bits and pieces of his mother’s illness and eventual death. Jim remembered every detail like it was yesterday. Running away from his son, escaping into the world of spies and secrets, even chasing after his old partner had been all distraction techniques that carried him forward into the future. All of that, including his meddling in Angus’s life, had led them to this moment. To this time. To a place where illness once again was in their life, and the path out of the woods would be long and hard.Nothing in Jim’s heart was stopping him from reaching out to Angus, to comfort him. But processing another cancer, another lengthy treatment, and even the possible death of his son - Jim would never admit it to anyone… he was scared.When he wasn’t busy as Oversight, he researched every little detail related to anaplastic diffuse large b-cell lymphoblastic lymphoma - and none of the statistics gave him any comfort. Angus would need a miracle to survive longer than two years. Clinical trials would have to be explored, and tough decisions made in the race against time and a disease that did not relent.The emotions were building, but Jim had to remain indifferent to the situation. It wasn’t ignorance or denial. He had to strategize his work, his feelings, and his son in the hope of keeping together a secret government agency, a relationship with his son, and the growing pit of anxiety from fear of death and the memories plaguing his dreams once more.Matty patted the armchair, still not looking Jim in the eye. Relaxing a fraction, Oversight took the hint, sitting in the nearest chair.“Director.”The tablet fell to the side, buried into the crevice of the cushion, Matilda’s face serious as it was foreboding.“We need to discuss Jack - and by extension, Mac.”“What would you have in mind, Matty?”She raised an eyebrow, body still in the seat, hands folded neatly in her lap. “I surmise you haven’t actually thought this through.”Jim gave her pause but shook his head with a thoughtful smile. “I gave it the attention it needed. You saw my report on the matter. Are you displeased?”“Yes, that report was - enlightening.”He got the hint. Matilda Webber was extremely unhappy with his decisions. “We need Jack’s talents.”Not one to roll her eyes, Matty pursed her lips, anger brewing in her eyes. “I agree. But he’ll never agree to leave Mac’s side.”“Dr. Lawrence is aware of Angus’s treatment plan, so he will be compiling the official report for medical leave. It should be done within the week. I expect Jack to be back in this room by the time that medical leave report is signed by myself.”Forcing Jack Wyatt Dalton into anything would backfire spectacularly, and Matilda Webber was acutely aware of the ramifications that would occur if either party did not get what they wanted. MacGyver wanted Jack back in the field. Jack wanted to be at Mac’s side while fighting a tough won battle against cancer.“I realize you have a mission to fulfill, Jim, but dragging Jack unwillingly into the field will cost you and this agency more than you can foresee. You have said it yourself; Angus is one of the most unique analysts we have ever had. If we lose Jack, we lose Mac. If Mac can’t come along, then what is the point? Don’t go down this path, Jim. You will not walk away from it unscathed.”Jaw set, the elder MacGyver folded his hands, resting his chin on their steeple. “Jack doesn’t have the amount of vacation accrual necessary to take off the months needed for Angus’s treatments. It is unfeasible for him to not return to work.”Matty slowly sighed, trying to figure out a way to square this issue before the top blew off, and they lost both Mac and Jack in the fallout. “Jim. I’m not saying Jack will be on leave the entire time Mac is in treatment. You are right - he doesn’t have the vacation time. But you know that social support is crucial to cancer treatment, and Mac needs Jack to be there, especially right now. At least give Jack a month, until Mac is released from this hospital stay. I assume they will move treatments outpatient and even get Phoenix Medical involved. Enough time for us to sort out the logistics of not having Mac in the field for an undetermined amount of time.”Time was not on their side. Jim closed his eyes, considering.“Jack is the perfect asset for a time-sensitive mission in Yemen. I don’t have a month.”Matty stood, shaking her head in disbelief. If she had to become overly aggressive to her boss, then so be it. “No.”“It is not your choice, Director Webber.”“He is my agent! My field operative! Find someone else! John, Garrett, Trevor - pick a name, Jack has trained them all!” Her reasoning was falling on deaf ears, and she knew it. She stood to her full height, giving James a long stare down. “I will sign off on Mac’s medical leave. But I will be drafting a report for Jack’s temporary leave while Mac is in the hospital. You can take it or leave it, James. I beg of you - don’t do this to them.”She walked as fast as her small legs would carry her, hand hovering over the door handle, the magnetic lock releasing at her presence. She looked back, Oversight continuing to sit in the overstuffed armchair, hands clasped in - maybe? - thoughtful reflection.“Don’t be that father, James MacGyver.”“You know you don’t have to stay with me twenty-four seven.”The soft murmur of hospital life could be heard through the closed door. Index finger scrolling up and down the phone screen, red and white blurring with words of complex meaning and terrifying statistics. The finger paused, Jack, sighing. How can I reason with this kid, this kid who stole my heart and my ambition? A nerdy bomb kid I ran after to keep from getting killed in Afghanistan and now state-side. I left my home of Texas to make sure he didn’t end up in the grave too early. I joined a secret off-the-books government agency and never looked back, just to keep this kid safe and sound for the rest of my days. How do I reason with him? Show him this changes nothing. Absolutely nothing.Jack rolled over in the cot, quiet protests from springs desperate to not go through this just as much as Jack didn’t want to explain his faithfulness to one Angus Jackson MacGyver. It was an unspoken thing between them – right?“The night you sent me, sent everyone, home – I struggled with the emotional upheaval of my best friend having cancer. A long time ago I vowed never to leave you in a hospital alone. And I reaffirmed that promise that night, promising to never leave you to fight this terrifying disease by yourself. I know you wanted space, but this fight isn’t meant to be fought alone. You need me, you need Bozer and Riley, you need your father and Matty. Letting you out of my sight was almost my undoing that night. I’m not leaving, Mac. You’re stuck with me.”Teeth worrying a lower lip, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. A million excuses running through a buzzing mind. But why… but… “But what about clothes? Work? God, Matty – Oh, you love your own bed. That cot cannot be comfortable. And food! Hospital food, Jack! The hospital cafeteria must be boring. I’m boring. Nothing –“The cot groaned as Jack swung his upper body up from the lying position, feet planted on the ground without a sound, barely concealed emotion buried in a Delta-strong glare. “Mac. Look at me.”Fidgeting fingers stilled, and bright blue eyes slowly looked up to meet Jack’s.“You are not boring. I’m with you until the end of the line, remember? Matty can come to berate me herself for disobeying whatever metaphorical orders she needs me to follow. My place is by your side, being your support. If that means sleeping on a cot for thirty days helping you battle this bullshit disease, then so be it. I will not leave you to go through this alone.” This won’t be like dad, no – no it won’t. “You don’t get to have a say in what I do. I am here of my own free will. Got it?”Defeat settled into worn features marred by bruising, exhaustion, and unsurmountable stress. Too much was weighing on Angus MacGyver’s shoulders, and Jack was desperate to take it all away – just for a moment to see the kid he knew return to his old self. So vibrant and full of life, conjuring up crazy mathematical equations and sciencing the shit out of everything around him. The cancer had stolen that vibrancy – and the journey had only just begun.It almost made Jack storm out of the room to go punch a few walls, but the punching could wait. Mac looked so vulnerable in the hospital bed, conflicting messages coming from everywhere – friends, family, healthcare professionals, even his own body. It was maddening to watch, even worse, to be witness to the pain and emotional upheaval fighting inside Mac’s head.Mac broke eye contact, head bobbing in agreement with Jack’s words. The kid didn’t want the help, didn’t want the protection. But that was Jack’s exact position at the Phoenix Foundation – Overwatch. Protector. An armed badass who kept the team safe and dragged Mac kicking and screaming back from the edge of oblivion.
That’s working out so well right now. Distraction, distraction!
“As for the cafeteria,” Jack let out a low chuckle. “Oh, the cafeteria is loaded, my man. It has everything. If you want something they don’t have on that patient menu, you just tell me. I will go hunt it down. It is buffet style, with different stations for this cuisine and that cuisine. There is a table with just pizza – even though we are going to have to order that in at some point. Minus the beers, but ya know. And the hours? Around-the-clock! No vending machine food for me! All the luxury a growing man needs!”A smile crept up on Mac’s face. He could only imagine Jack’s obsession with the cafeteria of all places.“As for the rest of it – the staff here have thought of everything, Mac. You aren’t the only patient who has to stay confined for a long time. Families from across the state, across the country, come to this unit for cancer care.”“Wait. How do you know all of this?”Jack grinned. “The nurses love to chat.”“JACK!”A loud bellow of glee. “Oh, oh, don’t Jack me! I ask a question, and they are more than willing to answer, as long as it doesn’t break Hippo.”“HIPAA, Jack. It is the law. Something you seem to be leery of when it comes to my health information.”Jack waved Mac off the subject. “Not the point. Plus, if Bozer can make decisions for you, I can know how you are doing.”“Jack, that is not –“A tick higher in octave, Jack continued. “Anyway! The nurses have given me a complete rundown of this unit. I mean, more than just basic security at the front door, which is a pretty snazzy deal. Locked unit and all that. Special filters to keep the air clean. Patients get transplants on this unit. But it isn’t a normal transplant like an organ or something. No – it’s a bone marrow transplant. Blood transplant. Their DNA can change! How crazy is that?!”It was more accurately termed a hematopoietic stem cell transplant – the base cell for all blood cells. The term had come up more than a handful of times in Mac’s internet searches. A lengthy process that involved high doses of chemotherapy and radiation, an infusion of stem cells from either the patient or a donor, and then the waiting, the watching, and the hopeful cure. Add in a host of issues if you receive cells from a donor, including graft versus host disease, immunosuppression drugs, and the nagging feeling the cancer could return, a transplant was a very risky treatment.“Because patients are here so long, they have everything set up for families. A family room just for visitors, a laundry room with a communal bathroom and shower, and visitor gift cards to the cafeteria. With no visiting hours, I could be here for months.”Even the thought of spending even more than a month in the hospital made Mac’s stomach turn, his face turning a faint shade of green.Jack was quick to move on. “Bozer can grab things from my place when I need them, I can do laundry here, and I already have my go-bag. I don’t have many needs, Mac. I’m more worried about you. Okay? So, I’m sticking with you through the thick of this, understood?”Another slow nod. “Yeah.” Whispered into the silence.Mac burrowed into the blankets on his bed, a chill settling into his bones. He could not get warm. Time seemed to drift, floating in and out of awareness. Eyes closed against the brightness of the fluorescent lights and murmuring voices overhead. Another inflating blood pressure cuff, a poke in the arm, and more blood drawn from a sluggish PICC line. A fever, a change in antibiotics. Bombardment of questions, a couple of pills, and a soothing hand brushing back sweat-soaked hair strands. The battle of the century – would Mac win? He was so unsure…It was beyond late when Director Webber and Oversight managed to complete their work for the day and jointly, but separately, left the Phoenix Foundation headquarters, both unmarked agency cars headed in the same direction via different preselected directions. The protocol dictated that they could not travel to the same location in the same vehicle or the same path due to the risk of attack. As both individuals held high-ranking positions within the covert government agency, both Webber and MacGyver upheld protocol like it was the Bible.MacGyver parked two blocks from the hospital, a quick check of further security protocols in place to keep his identity hidden and location unspecified to any followers. A messenger bag sat in the passenger seat, four cards from several lab techs, and a book of brainteasers hidden in a well-crafted gift bag. Jill had tacked on a new origami crane, this one a brilliant orange with silver laced into the wings.Webber parked in the hospital parking garage, her steps into the hospital carefully randomized to prevent identification. She carried nothing into the main entrance, her keys and phone condensed to a small leg strap under her fashionable black and white skirt. It had been a rigorous day in the office; thankfully, no need to run around in a dress with heels and a gun pointed at some bozo.As if perfectly timed, Webber stepped off the elevator onto the sixth floor at the same time MacGyver whipped the stairwell door open. Nodding, they confirmed no follows and advanced toward the dim lighting of the hematology and bone marrow transplant unit. A nurse let the pair in, asking them to sign in with their name, patient room number they were visiting, and requesting they affirm they were not sick or had been around anyone recently ill. Using predetermined aliases, they complied before walking in step down the hallway, no conversation passing between the two.Their earlier conversation had been hotly revisited just before leaving headquarters. In the end, they had come to a mutual agreement on how they would manage Jack’s persistence in taking leave while Angus was hospitalized. James did not agree with losing one of his best tactical agents for upcoming missions, but he eventually decided to relay best judgment to Director Webber.Jack was sitting in the recliner, hands folded neatly under a well-chiseled jaw. Piercing glare telling them to be quiet as both superiors stepped into the room. The telemetry monitor beeped along without a care, soft air whistling through oxygen tubing as Mac rested, oblivious to the world. Breathing slow and shallow in sleep, the oxygen helping keep him clear-headed for when he finally awoke.A glance at Matty, a frown at his father. The clock ticking by slowly – just before midnight. Somehow, Mac had fallen asleep during a fever, a new chemotherapy bag, and bedtime medications. Derek, his new night nurse, had even wrangled oxygen onto him – or had Jack? Mac swallowed down the thick saliva that had settled in his mouth, body shifting in the bed to get more comfortable.“Little late to be visiting, don’t ya think?” Jack was eyeing both superiors with suspicion, his body still relaxed in the recliner.Matty walked up to the bed, planting a kiss on Mac’s furrowed forehead. “The day got away from us. How are you feeling, Baby Einstein?”A half-hearted shrug. “I’m okay.” One hand reaching up to remove the oxygen, a smaller grasp with a smiling face stopping him. “Ready to go home.”Jim pulled the gift from the depths of his messenger bag, placing it at the foot of the bed. Mac’s eyes followed the action, forehead creasing further.“We want you to feel better before we get you home.” Matty brushed some hair out of Mac’s eyes, her smile never wavering. “There’s a small present for Jack in the gift bag – it’ll be obvious when he opens it. Feel free to do it later, okay?”Mac nodded, eyes flickering between the gift bag, Matty, and his father. There was a subtle tension in the room. Feeling the growing anxiety, Mac began to worry his lower lip, fingers blindly searching for a stray paperclip he knew was somewhere in the bedsheets.“We have come to an agreement.” James took a step back from the bed, hands resting folded behind his back.Matty gave Jack a pointed stare, indicating it was about him specifically. He stared her down, his body slowly moving to sit at the edge of the recliner.“Mac.” Her gaze softened and turned back to the youngest in the room, a sad smile on her face. “Medical leave will be formally signed off on by the end of the week. Until both Dr. Kang and Dr. Lawrence clear you to return to work and, by extension, field duty, you will have restricted access to Phoenix Headquarters. No concrete plans have been set, but considering the treatment plan you are faced with, we may not be able to let you come back to work.”Jack was the first to protest.“You can’t do that to him! What’s he going to do once he gets out of here, twiddle his thumbs all day?!”There had been little doubt that medical leave would include no access to work. Mac had envisioned that the moment Dr. Kang spoke the dreaded words, you have cancer. It was a disappointing decision, but Mac had no fight in him to protest. Jack’s protests for him would be futile but let him have his moment. This time, no one stopped Mac from slipping off the oxygen, nasal drainage starting to form as his thoughts spiraled.I can’t do what I love. Can’t risk getting sick. Can’t risk getting hurt. Already still covered in bruises. Could die from this. Too much at stake. Too much to do. So little time.Matty berated Jack, telling him that wasn’t going to happen. But safety was a paramount issue, and Mac’s health was far more critical than the Phoenix Foundation mission.She sighed before continuing. “Mac, I know going on restricted medical leave is difficult to hear. You’ve been on medical leave before, but not for the foreseeable future. We want you to focus on your health – because when we get you back into the field, we want you in tip-top shape.”He vaguely heard her words, their soft-spoken nature barely penetrating the settling dust of defeat. He understood the necessity – his focus had to be on himself, not work. It had transformed over the past week, twisting and turning until the cancer diagnosis landed in an unprepared lap. Now was the time to focus on fighting, loving, and healing. Not tinkering or problem-solving. It was a lonely proposition.“Dalton.”Jack sneered, heckles raised in already-obvious frustration. He was ready for a fight. Matty wanted to wince, knowing it would only get worse from that moment on. Jack, don’t make this worse.“Let me guess? You want to see me bright and early in the War Room tomorrow morning? No – no can do, I have –“James kept his face tightly controlled in faux boredom, a single blink elicited before interrupting.“Against my better judgment, you have been granted temporary leave. Conditional until Angus is released from the hospital. At that time, you will be expected to return to work, prepared for fieldwork as usual.”“Mac will be in treatment for months!” Jack was not going to deal with this bullshit. His place was at Mac’s side, whether that was in the field, in the lab, or in the hospital!The commanding voice broke in, daggers glared at both Oversight and the raging Delta. “You don’t have the hours necessary to take off months, Jack. Mac needs normalcy, not a shadow!”“I’m his partner! If he isn’t in the field, then neither am I! That’s the contract we both signed upon admittance to DXS. That we both signed with Thornton.”Quiet but threatening. “Before she was a traitor.” Thoughtful eyes trained on a son’s nervous mannerisms, noting the furrowed brow and hands twisting a lone paperclip with uncoordinated movements.“We know that Mac’s place with the Phoenix Foundation isn’t up for grabs, let alone discussion. But, Jack, we need your tactical expertise, and we can’t wait for months to pass. I know how much you both mean to each other, partners and best friends. But we are in this for the long haul, not just this first month in the hospital.”Jack stood, hands curling into fists. The words may have been spoken by Webber, but the angry red glare was aimed precisely at Oversight. Voice up in volume, more commanding, more Delta-like. “I will not leave him to fight this alone!”Frozen in a moment, all eyes were distracted by a lone paperclip creation soaring past the end of the bed, the messy blur of a hastily crafted Phoenix barely missing Jim’s left leg. It hit a chair leg, knocking to a quick stop on the faux-wood flooring. Anger was ablaze in two pure-blue eyes, hands mimicking his partners.“Stop fighting! Just stop! I can’t – I can’t think when you all are like this!” Breathing ragged, Mac powered on. “I have cancer, and I’m right here. I am not deaf! I am not disabled! I’m not fighting alone – I have all of you, Riley, Bozer, Jill, Penny – the full power of the Phoenix Foundation! I am not a baby, and I don’t need a babysitter! When I get out of here, Jack will go back to work, and we will figure out a way to keep my hands busy because I’m going to go crazy without something to keep me occupied.“I am going to beat this, but you have to trust me when I say stop bickering! Matty’s right, we are in this for the long haul. We have to be smart about what we do and how we do it.“And you –“ Mac pointed a shaking finger at Jack. “Will listen to them about this. You won’t deal with months off from work, even if I’m not there. I just – I need to get my head on straight about this, and none of you are helping.”The room fell silent, Mac closing his eyes against the brightness of the dim light. The nausea was building, tumbling in an empty stomach. Miserable doesn’t even cut it.Matty reached a comforting hand up, hesitating just shy of Mac’s shaking shoulder. She wished to take the pain away, bring Mac the peace in this rollercoaster life. But she pulled the hand back, dropping it to her side.“Alright, Mac. We will drop the conversation. When you are ready to talk, we’ll be available.”James took the hint, nodding before saying good-bye and exiting the room. Dark eyes tracked every movement in the room, Jack’s anger still vibrating just below the skin.Matty left a minute later, her voice soft as she kissed Mac on the forehead one more time. He didn’t look at her, breathing still ragged and muscles tense.Mac knew Jack couldn’t be by his side forever – not when cancer could be a battle for years. There had to be a better compromise once they left the hospital. But the future was so uncertain. Mac had no solution – at least, not yet.The clock struck midnight, and Derek strolled into the room, gauging the atmosphere with raised eyebrows.“How is everyone feeling?”Jack was gruff, just nodding, and sitting stiffly back into the recliner. His phone out for distraction as Mac tried to adjust back to being a patient – something he most despised.“I’m just feeling nauseous,” Mac mumbled, wiping his running nose on the sleeve of his nightshirt. Hiding the rest of his feelings – the anger, the sadness, the hopelessness – was a lot harder when all defenses had been broken down. Mac was raw, inside and out. It was an unsettling feeling of failure and regret. When had the strong boy, army EOD and DXS-turned-Phoenix agent-analyst, become so utterly broken?When cancer said hello.Derek did his tasks for the hour, grabbing vitals, lab work, asking about pain, and giving scheduled nausea medications. Mac answered questions when asked, but offered nothing else, Derek not prying on the scene he had come upon earlier.The room settled as Derek left, Jack now settled into the cot, eyes closed, tension leeching incrementally – painfully, slowly, embarrassingly holding on for dear life.The gift bag still sat at the end of the bed. Mac rubbed a sore spot on his right arm, mind whirling. I need more distractions. I need – I need something else. I love you, Jack, but you are going to drive me crazy. Maybe I am already crazy. Dragging the bag towards his lap, Mac carefully unwrapped the tissue paper, eyes peering into the depths.Four sparkly cards, a book of brain teasers, a wrapped cylinder that said for Jack, and a brilliant orange origami crane. A new, tentative smile crept up Mac’s face. The crane was so beautiful – Jill was knocking them out of the park in stunning color. Her hope for him was palpable. When would he be okay with this diagnosis, this disease? Tomorrow? Next week? At discharge? Never?It frightened him, the idea he may never come to terms with his new reality. Cancer was now his present, and he needed to grasp that, accept it, and challenge it. The chemo steadily dripped into him, destined to kill both good and bad cells. If it took eight cycles or twenty-six different treatments to kill his cancer, then so be it. Mac was in for the long haul, and he needed to get his head on straight. Cancer could make him stronger, or it could cripple him. Which would he choose?

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

You know what its like to be tired And only a shell of yourself Well you start to believe You don’t have what it takes ‘Cause it’s all you can do Just to move, much less finish the race

(Almost Home by MercyMe)
Jack had been shunned to the family room. No worries, it was a quick task – sterile dressing change on Mac’s PICC line. Eventually Jack and Bozer would learn how to maintain the central access – it was far too high up Mac’s left upper arm, basically in his armpit, for Mac to personally manage – but only when they got closer to discharge. Mac wasn’t even done with this first round of chemo. One more bag that evening and then a final drug late the next day.The brewing festivities were coming along nicely. Only hitch – when to decorate. Maybe the day nurse could walk the hall with Mac to distract him long enough to let Jack blow up a few balloons and hang a couple streamers. It would be worth it, making Mac smile and laugh. The Yeehaw-nu Reeves shirt had certainly pulled a grin from the kid, but it hadn’t been enough to pull him from the constant funk.The kid had been so quiet since Matty and Oversight had left late last night. A permanent look of absolute anguish on an already sad face, speckled with slowly-healing bruises and messy hair. I get it – he’s depressed .Jack wanted to punch himself, angry for letting Mac fall into that trap. Letting him get sick, not knowing something was wrong sooner – now letting his partner slip far into his head? Jack was coming up winning in the world’s greatest fuck-up contest. Screw logic, Jack should have known Mac was sick. Forced him to get seen sooner, not when a nosebleed near damn killed him.Okay, that wasn’t right, but it felt like it. Everything had started with that ridiculous nosebleed. Would have been better if the answer had been poison. At least we could have blamed someone for that.There had to be some way to get Mac out of his head. Throwing a party was certainly a good distraction, but it wasn’t long term. Jack wanted all the answers and came up holding none. People went through long hospital stays and cancer treatments every day. Maybe –Jack sighed, watching the clouds slowly drift across the big blue sky. Whatever solution he came up with, it would have to be solid . Mac’s brain was too big and too complex to fit into a Jack-sized solution. It’s gonna take time. I hope he can wait. God, I hope he will survive this. Side effects of steroids - muscle atrophy, increased blood sugars, hypertension, hypokalemia, edema and fluid retention. Apart from the fluid retention and fatigue, Mac had the opposite issues while on a healthy dose of prednisone. His blood pressure hovered in the low one-hundreds, his potassium was stuck at 5.2 even with the daily diuretic, and Mac was not hungry. Nothing looked appetizing. Between the nausea and weakness, Mac had no desire to drink or eat more than a few nibbles here and there. Usually steroids made people ravenous – except for one Angus MacGyver.Oh, the prednisone had announced its side effects loud and clear. The moon face was prominent, cheeks puffy in the bathroom reflection. Skin pale from lack of hemoglobin and red blood cells. Mac looked like a ghost.He was quickly learning he would be transfusion-dependent until his bone marrow kicked back into proper gear in about three weeks. That was the hope, anyway. One cycle of chemo would not fix him; that was wishful thinking. The chemo was doing its intended job – his white blood cells were below 500 that morning, his absolute neutrophil count hitting rock bottom at zero. A few staggered lymphocytes and monocytes hanging on in the bloodstream, struggling to avoid death by etoposide, vincristine, and doxorubicin.As the chemo hunted down the cancerous cells, the prednisone puffed up more than Mac’s face. His legs, ankles, and feet had taken the worst of the fluid retention, growing double their usual size and making walking a more difficult task. Because his energy level wasn’t already shit.Determined to keep up his strength, Mac did his due diligence to keep walking every day, even when he didn’t feel like it. Five laps that morning, exhaustion hitting full force after stumbling back to bed. He was so tired by the end of lap five that he didn’t even shower, just crawled into the hospital bed and let the quiet sounds of the room lull him into a nap. Even though his legs ached, his bones had finally let up, quieting their displeasure from the rapidly proliferating white blood cells.The room was lonely without Jack. After getting kicked out to let Colin complete a dressing change on the PICC line, Mac’s partner hadn’t immediately returned post-sterile procedure. The lack of chatter, stupid sports statistics, and absurd Buzzfeed quiz answers were – disheartening. Mac had grown used to it, even if that day he’d been even more reluctant to answer or participate in any of Jack’s ramblings.The bandages from the biopsies and the removal of the IJ line had finally disappeared. A neat hole healing where the line had pierced into his neck, allowing for the removal of his rampaging blood. The lumps had been completely excised, leaving small unpleasant craters where lymph nodes had once lain dormant, awaiting infiltration of infection or some foreign invader. Who would have guessed that invader would be his own white blood cells?The bruising and the background pain only reminded Mac of how far he had come in the past week. From an unexpected nosebleed to a PET scan and biopsies to starting chemotherapy. It was beginning to become more difficult to find a reason to engage with the outside world when the purpose for his life slipped through his fingers like sand. Restricted medical leave with no end in sight. Mac wished for any other reason to be sick and laid up from work – anything other than cancer . Broken leg, broken arm, cracked ribs, stab wound, concussion, temporary blindness, torture, appendicitis, poison – you name it, Mac would take it over cancer any day of the week. Hopes and dreams? Crushed by a diagnosis that kept Mac confined to a room and chained to an IV pole. Mopey didn’t even begin to describe Angus MacGyver’s insistent low and irritable mood.The only thing on his side was a determination to get out, get well, and get back to the Phoenix Foundation. Even if he was tired, low in spirit, and hopelessly discouraged, Mac would keep pressing forward. Okay. Shower. Then another nap .The phone buzzed and buzzed and – with a yank, the charger unlatched and scattered to the floor. Eyesight blurred from recent sleep and relentless exhaustion, Mac squinted at the screen. Charlie Robinson wants to video chat .Eyes growing wide, Mac fumbled to answer, his brain about two steps ahead of his uncoordinated limbs. Charlie! The big green button was finally pushed and the image from across the country filtered into Mac’s hospital room.A flashing look of concern, followed by a quick, generous smile. “Mac!”Running a shaky hand through still-damp hair from the recent shower, Mac managed a smile back. “Hey, Charlie. Unexpected call.”“Just got back from a training session with my students. Six days outside in a cluster of abandoned buildings and too many rubber bullets. I’ll have bruises for weeks.”Mac stifled a laugh. “No foam shrapnel?”A groan. “Would have been preferred. But – I got on my email a few minutes ago and had to call you immediately. Mac – I’m so sorry, man. Cancer. That’s rough.” Cancer. Yeah . “Yeah. Slowly learning to deal with it. Not really excited to spend three, four weeks inside these four walls.” Mac flipped the camera, showing off the drab colors – but also the flairs of love and thoughtfulness from family and friends. Stacks of board games and card games, technological entertainment, a silly picture of Bruce Willis on the window that Matty had gifted Jack, the blue blanket and pillow from home, and a waiting pink and purple package sitting on the bedside table. A bedside table speckled with two ginger ale mini cans, a graduated cylinder of ice water, a couple of crystal light lemonade packets, headphones, tissues, and a giant bottle of sodium bicarbonate mouth rinse to help prevent mouth sores. New normal .“Anything I can do from here? Need a stupid get-well card?”The sip of ginger ale Mac took just before Charlie’s remark almost ended up on the bedspread, if not for an aborted snort and a quick swallow down the right tube. “Oh my god. Please, send me all the stupid get-well cards. Give me something to destroy with my hands – because we all know I’m going to get well so fucking soon.”They both chuckled, realizing how dumb it all sounded.“Seriously, Mac. How are you doing?”A far away look. Mac sighed. “Jack looks perpetually worried.”Charlie almost laughed, if not for the seriousness of the question. “I asked about you, not Jack.”Mac half heartedly shrugged, fingers beginning to pick at a loose thread.“I don’t know. Lonely. Afraid. Depressed. Matty and my dad – they came and told me I’m on indefinite medical leave. No Phoenix work. Hell, I don’t get to leave the damn hospital until my counts recover from the chemo. I’ve blown up like a water balloon, my kidneys hate me, and my mind won’t shut up about all the terminal what-ifs.“It is so boring in here. Like, Charlie, send help. I mean it. Send – send something to keep my brain going. I am gonna go crazy! Jack is trying, but without a mission or something work related to get my brain going, we both don’t know how to fill the time. And I can tell he’s struggling. We’ve never had to cross this type of bridge before, and I can tell it’s scaring him.“I can’t have beer, I can’t be out on the deck at – at home. I can’t tinker with my bike or the damn toaster . I can’t even leave the unit because I have no immune system! I’m nauseous from the chemo and my body is failing to – to regulate anything. My kidneys took a huge hit, but they are slowly bouncing back.” Mac swallowed down the large lump forming in his throat. He had been desperate to vent to someone other than Jack. He loved Jack, could talk to Jack about anything, but he was too close to this. Charlie – Charlie was a good listener.“It’s just so damn much, Charlie. I am in such denial of all this. But – but I won’t walk out. Because I can’t die. No. No, it isn’t going to happen.” Mac furiously rubbed at the waterworks starting to course down his cheeks. “And my dad – did I ever tell you about my mom, Charlie?”Very briefly, a handful of years prior, with no real substance. Charlie shook his head, sympathy on his face, a sad smile. He was giving Mac the space he needed to vent, to talk, and if that is what this call was about, then so be it.Mac swallowed around the lump, wiping furiously once more at the stray tears. “Breast cancer. She died right before Halloween when I was five. I don’t remember much, but I can tell my dad is getting reminded of her every time he sees me in the hospital. He’s only visited twice, and he – hasn’t really talked. I know our relationship has been rocky, especially with my resignation from the Phoenix Foundation. But I would hate for this to drive us further apart. I don’t know how to talk to him – Jack is always around, and you put those two into a room together and it’s like an instant cat fight. I yelled at both of them last night – and I feel so bad about that. This situation – it isn’t ideal.”Charlie had the grace to not look grief-stricken. No response could ever clear Mac’s conscience, and Charlie knew that. If he could reach through the phone and grip his friend in a tight hug, no power on earth could stop him. But Charlie was in a lonely corner office at Quantico, and Mac was in a lonely corner hospital room in Los Angeles. Thousands of miles dimmed to one moment, one glimpse in time.“I’m so sorry, Mac. About your mom – about this situation.”Tight grip on the phone, Mac curled a fist, bringing it to his mouth. He couldn’t do this. Not today, not tomorrow – screw the slowly dripping chemo in his left upper arm. He had absolutely no immune system, no functioning cells to give his brain oxygen, muscles energy, stop the bruising speckling his legs and arms, one on his head, neck, wrist from Ukraine – it literally never ended.Spiraling thoughts about side effects – mouth sores, diarrhea, fluid overload, liver enzymes all out of whack, hair loss, loss of appetite and continued nausea – no way to continue his job because his fingers will have lost feeling and his heart weaker from the drugs meant to save his life . No actual reassurance the cancer was going to be defeated forever. Would Mac live to eighty, let alone thirty?A clearing throat brought Mac back to the present, his chest barely releasing long enough to let him take an adequate breath.“Hey, man, don’t be afraid to talk it out. Reach out to your dad. If you need help, just yell. I’ll hear ya.”Mac snorted, a grin on his face as the lump in his throat started to shrink. “Thanks, Charlie.”“I’m gonna send you a big homemade package. Okay? Yeah. Any requests? Blue balloons? A water gun to terrorize the nurses – wait, better yet, terrorize –““Jack.” A bigger smile played on Mac’s lips, the thought of playing one on Jack enticing.Both men let out a laugh, the tension breaking.“Definitely send the water gun, Charlie. If only to make Jack jealous.”Stupid words and reassurances, time passed, until the video chat was eventually dropped, Mac once again alone in his room, the clock ticking endlessly forward.As if by divine intervention, the door banged open and Jack waltzed in, a chocolate shake in one hand and a mysterious paper bag in the other. He wasn’t alone either – Colin, right behind him, ready to get Mac set up for the afternoon. Check blood return on Mac’s chemo line, hang a new bag of maintenance IV fluids, give a couple of meds, and check another endless round of vitals.Thankfully, Jack made no comment on Mac’s tear-stained cheeks and he launched into a story about an old Delta buddy, the chocolate shake shoved into Mac’s empty hands. Mac paled at the idea of food and asked to hold off on the shake. Thankfully, the shake could be recreated whenever Mac wanted it from room service.With better labs from noon, Mac was freed from the telemetry leads and only had to have labs checked every twelve hours. But he wasn’t out of the woods yet. Sure, there was now less risk for cardiac arrest and various other complications from kidney failure, even an ICU transfer, but there was still too much to come. They would take it one day at a time. To survive meant laughing, accepting the pain of the journey ahead, and having determination and constant support through every joy, pain, set-back, and triumph.Once Colin left, Jack urged Mac to open the package Bozer had left the day before, the words open cycle one day four written in bold permanent marker.Inside were more silly, sparkly cards from Phoenix agents, the game Battle Ship from Matty with a note that said she would beat him any day at the strategy game, and the movie The Martian . Mac laughed at the cards, a handful of recognizable names butchering haikus and recycling poems from a previous injury. It was nice to be thought of, to have the support.Mac fell into another nap with a smile on his face as Jack settled into the recliner with a cover-worn Western classic. The afternoon hours slipped by with minimal interruption. After a mini nap, Mac managed to keep down the promised chocolate shake and played with a couple of paperclips. Jack eyed their shape with a raised eyebrow as Mac settled them against the rumpled bedsheets.“I don’t recognize them.”“That’s a monocyte, and that’s a neutrophil. I’m manifesting the white blood cells I want in my body.”Jack just nodded his head slowly, wondering how he ever became friends with the wackiest nerd on the planet. But Mac was his nerd, through and through.The afternoon turned into evening when Mac’s father arrived unexpectedly and unannounced. He stepped into the room without a word, taking a comfortable stance to the left of Mac’s bed. Inside, Mac was worried about the conversation they were about to have. Inside, Mac wasn’t ready for the conversation they needed to have. Inside, Mac knew the conversation had to happen - now or never.Jack stood by the window, arms crossed over his chest and eyes defensive. “Oversight.”“Dalton.”Their heated argument from the night before was not lost on either of them. Jack wasn’t going to bend to the pressure - he wasn’t going back into the field without Mac. If that meant he lost his job, so be it. Mac was more important. Mac’s health was more important. Overwatch duties were more important now than ever, especially when Mac needed a fulltime caregiver to manage medications, side effects, appointments, line care, and so much more, let alone the added pressure of day-to-day life. They would either come to a compromise or Jack would walk away from the Phoenix Foundation without a look back. Mac took priority, always.Mac, sitting cross legged on the bed, looked from his father to Jack and back again, worry etched into his forehead. These two will be the death of me .“Hey Jack, can you give us a few minutes alone?”Jack’s eyes shuttered, hurt briefly passing over his features as he huffed, arms swinging down to his sides, defeat in his posture. Logically, Jack knew the two needed to have a one-on-one conversation, father to son, son to father. But the two had a tenuous relationship at best, a barely-manageable working relationship let alone a solid familial relationship. Finding out your father wasn’t very far away all the years you agonized over his mysterious departure was anger personified, and Mac still struggled with the pain that hurt deep inside for years upon years of missed birthdays, missed connections, and missed milestones. Add in cancer, and the brewing pot of unease was palpable inside that hospital room.“I’ll just be down the hall, okay? One text away, that’s all.”Mac nodded and faintly smiled, grateful for his Overwatch. Oversight watched Jack slip from the room before letting out a long sigh.  Knowing this wasn’t going to be a conversation either of them wanted to have, Mac took the first step. He stretched as he climbed out of bed, any lingering cobwebs from his many naps disappearing into the clear-headedness the government agent knew was necessary for this, hand grabbing the IV pole and starting across the room for the overpacked table. He carefully unloaded the table onto the window seat, keeping one box handy before finally sitting and gesturing for his father to sit with him. He began to unbox the set, laying the board flat and carefully positioning the pieces. James MacGyver ambled to the table and sat, instinctively reaching for the white Queen, helping to finish the chess set up. “Was she any good at this game?”A white pawn moved two spaces into the middle of the board. Countered by the same action by a black pawn. “We seldom played, especially after you were born, but she was always crafty in how she played. I don’t know how she did it, but she won every single time.”Chess required logic. Unless you were Ellen MacGyver or James T. Kirk. Both men were no stranger to logic. Science - physics, chemistry, biology, human anatomy, engineering, statistics - taught them how to think, how to persevere, how to tip the balance in their direction, while also teaching them how to focus on the problem to help solve it. Mac used everyday household objects to defeat terrorists, madmen, and mathmatical conundrums every single day. James ran a highly secretive government agency, ordering and scheming and protecting. Mac smiled as they worked themselves across the board systematically, matching almost move-for-move. Eventually they would have to change tactics to win, but the familiarity was there. 18+ years since their last match. Still the same. It was like they hadn’t been apart for so long. Leaving, moving, fighting in a war across the sea, battling inner demons, and taking on the world one evil guy at a time. “Is this - is this triggering you?”A hand hovered over the white castle, the question momentarily pausing even the most brilliant of minds. “I compartmentalized the loss of your mother many, many years ago, Angus.”That didn’t answer the question, not by a long shot. Mac huffed out a breath, waiting for his father to make his next move. “I barely remember everything that happened when I was five, but I remember details that no child should have ever experienced. And then you left me. You were distant long before you physically left, mentally and emotionally absent.”“It was difficult to look at you - to remember her through you. I tried, Angus. For five years I tried to work, to ensure you had a good childhood. I lost her too, you know. Broke my heart into a thousand pieces watching her suffer and die. To see you have to go through the same emotions after she was gone - I wouldn’t allow myself to feel them. I threw myself into the work that mattered.”“By forgetting about me? By leaving me to fend for myself? And then you just left. Left without a word. Grandpa Harry was beside himself, wondering what he had done to deserve your lack of trust. And me - I was ten. I was scared.”James knocked out a black pawn with his queen, face closed of all emotion. “Check.”Mac defended his king so close by and took out a nearby white bishop, asking for his father to take out the pawn and be subjected to a take down by the black king.“You still didn’t answer my question. Is this cancer diagnosis triggering you?” Jim looked up, finally, really looking at his son. Saw the bruising, the pale skin, the poking and the prodding, the red-colored infusion slowly dripping into his son. Saw the determination, the fear, and the agony etched into a likeness that couldn’t be matched by anyone or anything when James MacGyver remembered his wife. His Ellen. She hadn’t looked the same, physically anyway - not really. But the treatments had taken their toll on her body, shut down her kidneys, and forced her into dialysis. She had been working hard on ensuring Angus had a happy Halloween, the unfinished Buzz Lightyear costume gathering dust in the closet after she entered the hospital for the last time. James remembered the oxygen mask and her whispered plea to protect him, Jim. Protect our little Angus. She had passed away two days later, incoherent in her last hours before suffering cardiac arrest from the 7.8 millimoles per liter of potassium in her blood stream. “I can’t lose you, Angus. It would - it would crush me. Break me.” It was so quietly spoken, Mac wasn’t sure he heard his father right.
Then why did you leave me? Why, after all these years, why?!
“It isn’t the same, but it is the same. Because I am unable to be the person you need in your time of distress. I wasn’t able to be there for her, and I know I am unable to be here for you. I ruined that the moment I walked out of your life.”“Then make it mean something, dad. Give Jack what he wants. Let him be at my side. Be a part of my life - the friends, the good, the bad. This treatment. How many years have we lost? Why continue to drag that time out? The past is - the past. This is now. I am ill, and I - I don’t get it because I’m not you, but I get it because I know this has to hurt. And I’m - I’m scared. I don’t want to die - even if I’ve probably had more brushes with death than the average human being does in a normal lifetime. But I’m going to fight. And I want to know that you won’t leave me again.”James moved the queen, knocking out the pawn. Opening up the space for Mac to decimate his army and see the light at the end of the tunnel: declaring a checkmate in four moves. “I think you’re stuck with me now, Angus.”Mac let out a small, unbelievable laugh. Because they weren’t just talking about the now or the future. But the past that plagued their relationship. The reasons they were broken and unmade in this lifetime. Not just cancer, but the hurt, the frustration, and the fear. Every emotion, coalescing into a promise. Don’t leave me. They played two more moves each before Mac finally responded. “Do you miss her?”“Every day. And I regret the time we have lost, Angus. I truly do. I’m not leaving. And -” A castle lost to the sea of discarded pieces. A king left barren for the taking.“Check.”“And I’ll consider Jack’s position.” The pawn wouldn’t keep his son from taking the game. But James knew that - had planned for that. Mac moved his still-standing queen two spaces and looked up from the board as the pawn was knocked over. Saw the sadness, saw the fear within those world-weary eyes. Felt the pang of the years passed, ever determined to make sure no time was lost now. Even in this time of adversity and change.“Checkmate.”Settling back in the chair, James sighed. “I’m scared for you. But I will move heaven and earth to ensure you have the best treatments, the best options. If Dr. Kang believes this treatment is the first best course of action, I will take him at his brilliance. I think we have a long fight ahead, son. And it will change us - it will change you along the way. I watched it change your mother, and I regret how it changed me. Before, during, and after her death. How I handled you. I - I’m so sorry. For the years lost. For my actions. For being your boss and not letting you know. I watched you grow up - proud. But regretful every single day of my life. I hope - I hope you know how much I love you.”“Why did you leave?”For the first time, James felt the tears in his eyes. “Because I wasn’t worthy of you.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Cross my heart and hope to die Taking this one step at a time Got your back if you got mine One foot in front of the other All that we have is each other One foot in front of the other

(One Foot by Walk the Moon)
“How was - that?” Jack made a gesture around the room, the clock signaling that it was coming up on seven in the evening, the orange sky outside fading into a moonless night. James MacGyver had left a few minutes prior, the two passing in the hall without a shared breath. The chess board was still in the same final position when Mac had won. He stared at the white king, the piece frozen in space and time, unable to move without losing its head. Mac wondered if his father had intentionally allowed him to win, showing him his true feelings. James MacGyver was trapped by the pressures of his position, his pain of the past, his hope for the future, the son he barely knew or understood, and the new fear of losing said son. Mac shrugged, a slow sigh slipping past his lips. “A way to move forward.”The Delta just nodded, not quite understanding, but not necessarily wanting to intrude on the relationship that was still so new between father and son. “Anyway,” Mac started to stand up, hand gripping the IV pole for dear life. A wave of dizziness threatened to make him sit back down, his vision graying out for just a moment. Strong arms were around him in barely a second, holding him up as his vision began to return.“You okay, Hoss?”Mac was tired. Tired of it all. Tired of feeling useless and unmoored. How am I going to last a month in this place?  The young blonde straightened, vision clear, head settling back to normal. He just nodded at his friend and plodded forward, climbing back into bed. He buried his face in the blankets, groaning.“I’d love for my body to properly function, ya know?” Mac’s voice was muffled by the blankets. “Not be a total clusterfuck for days at a time.”Jack wanted to chuckle - because the humor was there. Mac could be one of the funniest people in the room, but this wasn’t funny. Cancer was serious, the side effects of the treatment were serious, and Mac - well, he didn’t look himself. Moon face, swollen legs, bruising everywhere . Hooked up to a continuous IV of poison. Jack briefly wondered when the hair would - would start to go. Mac’s face popped up over the blankets, eyes narrowed in thought. “Just think, Jack. You won’t have to complain about my obsession with running. I couldn’t run one hundred feet, even if the devil was chasing after us.”“Hey, I only tease you because half the time you don’t need to do the running anyway. You think up a solution to fix the problem before ever running. Plus, when do you even run away from a problem?”“Today. Now. This problem.”Jack snorted. “Good luck trying to get ten feet out the door with that side piece.”Both sets of eyes went up to the orange-colored solution dripping into the PICC line dangling from Mac’s arm. Mac rolled over onto his back, frowning.“It really hampers my style, ya know?”Jack was gonna add his own choice words for dramatic effect but was sidelined by Colin and Mac’s night nurse, Sidonie, breaking down the hospital room door with nausea meds and chemo bag number one-thousand nine hundred and ninety (okay, it was chemo bag number five, with the last chemo bag for the cycle coming in hot in 24 hours, but Jack was certain it felt like centuries since Mac had been admitted to the hospital and started on chemotherapy. Dramatic didn’t even begin to cut it). After all was said and done, Mac was asleep only about 90 minutes later, the last 24-hour bag of chemo slowly dripping in, nighttime medications taken, and two soda crackers eaten in place of dinner. Jack’s eyes roamed the room, strategically planning for his surprise the next day. It all hinged on the nurses agreeing to take part in his hair-brained scheming, and that Mac either took a really long walk or nap at one point during the day. While everything was constantly in flux, Jack was the constant that kept Mac grounded in reality. It was how the two balanced each other. And Jack wasn’t going to be letting up on his duties as Overwatch and friend any time soon.The official last bag of chemo for the round was hanging. Nausea meds on board, IV fluids flowing, and Mac was napping. Again. It had been a pretty productive day. Mac had read two journal articles in the field of physics, his dizziness from the day before gone and his mind actually willing to focus for more than five minutes at a time. His nausea was even better controlled, while his appetite still poor. He did manage to drink a small bowl of soup for lunch. In the afternoon, he walked five laps in a row around the unit, fatigued by the end but smiling at his accomplishment. Jack was in and out of the room all day, acting - as Mac would describe it - suspicious. Jack claimed innocence, feigning interest in hospital coffee, taking a shower, and visiting the hospital cafeteria (three times, apparently). By the time the last bag of chemo for round one of R-EPOCH was finished, it was about nine at night and Mac was groggy from sleep. He rubbed his eyes with both hands as his nurse took down the empty bag of chemo. Mac yawned, turning to say thank you - when he noticed what was on top of her head.“You were not wearing those earlier.”Sidonie glanced up from her careful work at his PICC line, a grin like a cat on her face. “You can thank Jack for the new accessory.” Pink cat ears now graced her usual pinned-up brown bun, the antenna ears swaying back and forth as she worked to unhook his line.Speaking of Jack - Mac hadn’t seen the guy since waking up.And then Mac saw the rest of his room. Gold streamers hung from the ceiling, crisscrossing the room. A poster on the bathroom door was covered in quotes and messages from so many people. A cluster of balloons were sitting in the window, various pastel colors of the rainbow. Mac shook his head, blinking in surprise. Huh? As if on cue, the mysterious Jack Dalton swung open the bathroom door and jumped into the room, a karaoke microphone in hand. Somewhere in the room, a soundtrack started up and Jack started to swing side-to-side to the beat of the song.Lip-syncing, Jack danced out into the room, sliding in his socks from one side of the room to the other and back again, hands pointing at Mac, a smile on his lips.“Are you ready? Hey // Are you ready for this? // Are you hanging on the edge of your seat? // Out of the doorway the bullets rip // To the sound of the beat, yeah // Another one bites the dust // Another one bites the dust // And another one gone, and another one gone // Another one bites the dust (yeah) // Hey, I'm gonna get you too // Another one bites the dust.”Sidonie, finished with her task, was straight up laughing as the music faded and Jack slid to a stop at the foot of the bed. He was breathless and laughing a little himself, waiting for any response from Mac.Mac just stared the entire dance number, eyebrows raising up - up - up into his hairline, wondering what the hell Jack was smoking. As Jack huffed and puffed, Mac got a good look at the new shirt Jack was wearing. It said No Mo’ Chemo! “Ummm, Jack. What are you doing?”“Throwing you a party, duh! Happy end of chemo!!!”Mac, dumbfounded, gave Jack a slow blink, eyes narrowing in perpetual confusion. “But I’m not - I haven’t finished chemo. That was just the last dose of this cycle. Dr. Kang said I’ll need at least six or eight cycles.”“Nah, bro, who cares! Celebrate today!”Sidonie smiled, continuing to laugh. “He’s right, you should be excited. Not only am I unhooking your last dose of chemo for the cycle, but I also got permission to unhook you from the continuous fluids.”Mac’s eyes widened in excitement. “No IV pole?!”She nodded, holding up the end of the IV tubing that had been capped off with a red sterile cap. “Dr. Kang was happy with your kidney levels earlier today, so he’s agreeable to allowing you some time off the pole. He wants you to continue to receive hydration, but we can give it to you over a couple of hours once a day instead of continuously. However, you gotta promise to keep drinking your fluids. I know its hard, especially with the nausea and lack of appetite. But hydration is important, Mac.”He nodded, smiling and soaking up the good news. Freedom! “Woohoo!” Jack was back to dancing, sliding across the room and humming the song to himself as Sidonie finished her evening assessment and medication pass with Mac. Once Sidonie left, Jack settled down and gathered the treats he had stashed behind the board games on the table.“For you.”Mac accepted the offered chocolate chip cookie and rainbow frosting sprinkled vanilla cupcake. His stomach rumbled a bit, telling him he might actually be hungry.“Ohh, thank you.”Sitting back in the recliner, Jack shoved a duplicate cookie into his mouth, the smile never leaving his face.“I wa’ted tu supise you,” Jack offered, the cookie a mess in his mouth.Mac laughed, rolling his eyes. “Chew with your mouth closed, big guy. And - I appreciate it. I may not be done with chemo forever, but this is a nice gesture. The dancing was - on par.”“Only the best for my man,” Jack managed after swallowing hastily, only coughing a couple of times as the treat went down.Mac’s gaze wandered over the streamers, the balloons, and the poster on the door. “You did all of this in - in the 30 minutes it took to infuse my Cytoxan?”Shaking his head, Jack just smiled. “The streamers, sure. I wasn’t sure when I was gonna get a chance to do it, considering you didn’t nap until just now. I had Bozer and Riley send the poster around the Phoenix for the past 24 hours, and then I sent it around the unit today when I wasn’t in here bothering you. The balloons were delivered at shift change. The rest just fell into place over the past - couple of days? But it was worth it, seein’ the look on your face!”Carefully peeling off the liner, Mac tentatively took a bite of the cupcake, testing his fragile stomach. He hadn’t eaten anything substantial in a few days due to the nausea and vomiting aspect of treatment. The sugar exploded in his mouth, the cake moist and bursting with flavor. He got halfway through the muffin-sized cupcake before slowing down and letting his stomach actually digest the sugary goodness.Jack was content to just watch Mac, savoring the moment. For the first time in over a week, Mac was eating something with substance. For the first time in over a week, Mac was enjoying himself. Jack would have patted himself on the back if he could reach that far.“Any other plans for this end-of-chemo party?” Mac asked, sliding the rest of the cupcake and the cookie onto the bedside table. He took a long drink of water, happy to finally be hungry for once. He was happy not to be hooked up to the IV pole for once. He was happy his kidneys were doing better. He was happy that round one of chemo was finally done! He was just - happy!“I was thinkin’ a movie, but it is your party.”Mac shrugged, replacing the water back onto the bedside table. “Someone gave me The Martian . And you know how much I love to pick apart the science in those movies.”“Why is it we always lose Matt Damon in space or on that blasted red planet? It’s a habit we gotta nip in the bud, man.”They both laughed as Jack got up to put the movie into the hospital-provided DVD player. As the movie started, Jack got comfy in the recliner, his own blanket spread across his lap, while Mac wrapped his body up in his blanket and curled up in the bed. They made ridiculous comments and yelled at the screen multiple times. Mac moreso about the science than Jack about the inconsistencies between the book and the movie.By the time the credits rolled, it was pushing midnight and Mac was drowsy with sleep. The two of them muttered good night and rolled over in their respective sleeping arrangements, crashing hard.Mac was awake long enough to manage a heartfelt, “Thanks, Jack,” before both of them drifted off to sleep, smiles etched on their faces.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The most important thing in the world is family and love.

(John Wooden)

Cycle One Day Six (C1D6)
“Go fish.”Jack looked down at the eight cards in his hand and sighed. He pulled a card from the stack and looked longingly at the giant piles of combinations already pilfered by Bozer, Riley, and Mac. Not surprisingly, Mac had the largest pile. Whether that was because everyone was trying to be nice and let him win, or his brain really was that effing good (even on chemo, and boy, was Jack ready for Mac to be dumbed down to normal people-sized brain levels).The group never played Go Fish like normal. Instead, they dumped five different card decks into a pile, shuffled and stacked them all, and dealt like usual, but with ten cards going to each person.Today they were playing with a regular casino-style card deck, a Pokemon card deck, a Star Wars card deck, a Queen (the rockband) card deck, and a Barbie card deck. The Barbie deck had been found in the family room on the unit because Bozer had conveniently forgotten to grab the handmade Bruce Willis card deck from Mac’s house that morning. The catch was to obtain all the same suites from that specific deck of cards. So, Pokemon couldn’t mingle with Star Wars. Mac always paid excellent attention to how the group was playing (who asked for what and who gave up cards or who mocked back ‘go fish’) and had somehow obtained all the Kings and fives from the different card decks. Bozer was on his way to owning all the sevens, and Riley sat on four of the five Ace combos. Jack? Jack had one measly pile of fours from Star Wars and a group of tens from the regular deck. The game continued around the circle, Mac pocketing a set of Jacks and Riley finishing off the Aces in prime style. Jack stared hard at the five cards in his hand (Mac had taken two of them, Bozer another), trying to determine what he wanted to ask for and from whom.It was as if the universe smiled kindly on Jack that evening, breaking up the game at that very moment when both Bozer and Riley’s alarms went off, signaling they had to head out for a mandatory meeting at headquarters while Jack got to hedge and get the details later. There had technically been no determination on his official status with the Phoenix Foundation - he wasn’t on official leave (that was Mac), and not 100% taking PTO or being forced to come into work. Jack figured he would see a decrease in pay for the weeks he spent at Mac’s side in the hospital, and there would be hell to bitch about once Mac was out of the hospital and receiving more routine and stable care on an outpatient basis.  While the Go Fish game had turned out poorly for Jack, Mac was all smiles, laughing it up as Bozer and Riley gathered their belongings and trudged out of the room, choruses of “see you tomorrow” and well-meaning hugs passing between the group. Unfortunately, as the loser, Jack had to pick up the game. And sorting through all five card decks was going to be a pain. He sighed, starting to sift and pile brightly colored cards away from bland and not-so-bright card backings. The hospital room door shut with a click, and Jack felt rather than saw the presence coming up beside him.“Here, I can help.”Jack smiled, but gently shoved his partner away from the table and toward the waiting bed. “Nah, nah, I got this. Get ready for bed. Your nurse will be here any moment to make you take more pills.”“It never ends.” Mac detoured to get clean clothes, realizing he might have forgotten to take a shower that day. He had also been in his current set of pajamas for a couple of days. Taking on and off shirts while continuously hooked to an IV pole was a task that required two people (one of them the nurse) and might have required an engineering degree or two to figure out. “How’s that manifesting of narutos and monobabies coming?”Mac paused opening the closet door, confusion written all over his face as he wondered what the hell Jack was talking about. Wait, is he talking about… “You mean neutrophils and monocytes?”“Well duh, what else would I be talking about?”Mac had made over thirty different paperclip white blood cells that day trying to fend off the boredom. Now that the chemo had finished, there was little to do to occupy his brain. Work was out of the question (obviously), and he was feeling pretty good. Fatigued, but his stomach was no longer rebelling every few minutes, and he wasn’t struggling to stay awake. One nap a day seemed to be the norm now. But Mac was - anxious. Waiting for the pin to drop, the side effects to hit him like a stack of bricks. There had been so many listed for his treatment regimen. And logically, Mac knew, he definitely knew, that he probably wouldn’t experience the majority of the side effects. It was statistically impossible to anticipate what side effects would hit him and when. But he also knew that the most common side effects would probably hit him at one point in time. Sure, he had experienced nausea and vomiting, was feeling fatigued, lacked an appetite, and was experiencing myelosuppression (low blood counts across all cell lines - white blood cells, red blood cells/hemoglobin, and platelets). Though that was a huge selling point for the chemo - it meant the cancer was also not going crazy in his bloodstream. But when would the hair loss occur? What about diarrhea or constipation? Mucositis - painful mouth sores? Would his liver start to fail? What about his heart? Dangerous arrhythmia, abnormal heart enlargement, or restrictive cardiomyopathy. Even better, lung damage. When would the cyclic fear of the side effects end?The paperclips had been a distraction, a way to try to visualize what Mac wanted going on inside his body. Logically, he also knew that cells had cycles and the chemo was gonna be circulating his body for a few more days. Rituxumab metabolites alone stuck around for two or more months. His nadir - the lowest point of bone marrow suppression - was still coming. If Dr. Kang believed three weeks between cycles was the happy medium, it meant his nadir would hit about day seven to day eleven of the cycle, and then it should be on the upswing moving forward to day twenty-one. Needless to say, Mac was just trying to think happy thoughts only and visualize the progress his bone marrow would make in the coming days. Until then…Mac shook his head in disbelief at Jack’s comment. “I’m manifesting, but it doesn’t really work like that. Science and biology are - complicated.”A snort from the big guy. “Complicated. More like near impossible to understand.”Rolling his eyes, Mac grabbed a new pair of pajamas for bed. “Just because you failed all major science and math courses in high school, doesn’t mean it is as nearly impossible to understand as you believe.”But Jack hadn’t been wrong - Mac’s nurse that night showed up ten minutes later, handing over a medicine cup full of goodies. Acyclovir - his new best friend antiviral; Levaquin - broad-spectrum antibiotic when he had no fighting immune system; and Zyprexa - scheduled nausea medication until day eight of the cycle. Mac had rarely taken medications before being diagnosed with cancer - even for pain. Unless he had a severe migraine or was incapacitated - Mac avoided healthcare and all pills. But as the days drifted by, he was glad for the medical professionals guiding him through the unavoidable. Taking medications was part of the regimen, and if nothing else, Mac wanted cancer to go away. Mac longed for the day when he could walk back into the Phoenix Foundation and pick up where he left off - without illness clouding his every move.
Cycle One Day Nine (C1D9)
His father actually wanted to spend time with him. At least, that is what the text message said. 
My afternoon opened up. May I pay a visit at a time that is convenient for you? 
Mac had responded with a surprised smile on his face. Nothing on the schedule today, feel free to come by at any time. Life in the hospital was - weird. The days were long and boring. Walk the halls, take a shower, take some pills, another set of vitals, blood draws, central line dressing changes, competitive board game challenges, paperclip art, naps, the same old hospital food or protein drinks, and - the company didn’t change much either. Sure, Riley and Bozer visited the most, with the occasional Jill, Matty, and Dad, but it was really just a one-man show of Jack Dalton - day and night.Jack knew Mac best, recognizing his moods, providing comfort in times of distress, getting him things he needed and or wanted, and always scoping out the best for his partner. He was Mac’s Overwatch and took it seriously, even in the hospital.  Mac had to believe that Jack was adjusting to this new normal, just like Mac was adjusting. Did Mac want to get back to the Phoenix, back to Sparky and abandoned projects? Get back on the Phoenix jet for a hair-brained insane mission dealing with bombs, terrorists, and making shit out of nothing? Of course he did. And he saw it in Jack’s worn-out facial features - the man was just as bored and frustrated with the situation as Mac was. But life had a way of knocking the young blonde upside the head, demanding he take a moment to appreciate life. Mac was slowly coming to terms with accepting who his father was in his life. They had been apart for the majority of Mac’s life, and to accept the flaws of his father wasn’t easy. Mac had been angry at the abandonment, the lies, the silly games his father had put him through over the years. To find out Oversight was James MacGyver was a difficult pill to swallow. It’s why Mac had left, smoke coming out of both ears in heated hatred. Mac had abandoned what he loved best - his partner, his friends, his family, and the work he was born to do - all because he had been lied to and manipulated for years. By the one person Mac had needed the most - his father.Now, to have his father genuinely interested in his wellbeing - it was strange. Never in a million years would Mac have believed his father would have a free afternoon and ask to spend it with him, the son he had long seen as a tool rather than an actual person. But maybe something had shifted in dear ol’ Dad.Mac didn’t have to wonder for long, the knock at the hospital room door announcing a visitor, the door swinging open. “Hey. It’s good to see you,” Mac waved his father into the room, watching as James set a backpack in an unused corner, piercing eyes surveying the entire room. Mac caught on instantly. “Oh, um, Jack’s just taking a shower, so he’ll be back any minute. I don’t know if you’ll want to be here when he does. We could always go to the family room.”“He is my agent. He has to see me anyway, why would interacting here be any different?”“He’s - mad. At you. For a lot of things.”“I’m not sure how logical that is.”“We all hold grudges. He’s mad because you want to force him to work. He’s also mad you were our boss and never told us. And mad you left me when I was ten.”“Definitely illogical.”“Yeah, well, he’s a fierce defender. I think he feels helpless because of this, knowing he can’t take down the bad guy. He can’t protect.”“I - I can’t protect you either.” James looked decidedly uneasy at the statement, eyes shifting away from his son and eyeing the game-ladden table by the window.“Did you talk to that doctor in India?”“They reported dismal statistics.” James was all fact, closing all emotion. “There are still the other two studies within the USA. I have an inquiry out to both Mayo Clinic and Fred Hutchinson.”Mac so badly wanted the current treatment to work - even if there was a lot more treatment ahead of him than behind him. Even thinking about more chemo was - disheartening at best. “Do you - do you want me to switch treatments?”James blinked, pausing right before reaching the table. “I don’t - no. If the best course of action is to start with standard of care, I support your choice, Angus. As you have already received a round of chemo, I find it prudent to continue with this course until it either puts you into remission or we need a secondary option.”Remission. A word that seemed foreign to Mac’s tongue. It could already be happening - or it could be a fable meant to lull him into a sense of false security. He’s read the statistics, and seen the outcomes. He will be lucky to make it a couple of years, let alone five years or more. He’s scared - what if he doesn’t get to do what he loves anymore? The what-ifs are an endless sea of worst-case scenarios.“I see that mind of yours, Angus. Play scrabble with me.” He had already started to clear the tabletop, creating room for the Scrabble board.Mac stretched as he got out of bed. “You aren’t going to let me win, are you?”“Ah.” James MacGyver recognized when he had been caught, a slight pink flush creeping up his cheeks at the mention of their previous gameplay. “Yes, well, I think Scrabble requires different skills to win, as you say, than chess.”The board was set, the letters doled out, the letter pile in place. Father and son stared each other down, ready to play.Mac went first, placing a word and leaning back in the chair, watching his father think about his first move.“How’s work?”“The Phoenix is a well-oiled machine, and I regret it keeps me from you more than I would like. When you weren’t sick, it was easier to keep tabs, to be more - cognizant of our tenuous relationship. They can work well without me for a few hours, allowing me the chance to - see you and ensure you have all that you need. Getting the care you deserve.”“It’s different not being at Phoenix Medical. But everyone is really good at what they do and I don’t feel ignored. Dr. Kang is trying his best. And I feel the support. I mean, the stack of cards and games and paper clips is - astronomical. But it is nice to know that I’m not alone.”“And we would do right to ensure we never leave you alone. You’re too important.”“Dad…”“In many ways. Not only are you a valuable asset to the Phoenix, but your friends and colleagues believe you to be an irreplaceable fixture in their lives. And you are important to me.”“As your best agent?”“As my son.”The tension between father and son was broken instantly as the door swung open, revealing a freshly-shaven Jack. He barely noticed the visitor, barrelling into his speech without a care in the world. “Hey, Mac, the special in the cafeteria is -“ Jack finally halted to a stop just inside the door, the clang of the window shade echoing as the door shut under its own power.Mac rolled his eyes, seeing the immediate tension between Overwatch and Oversight. It happened every time they were in the same room together. Recently, it had been specifically Mac’s hospital room. “You know you two can be in the same room at the same time, right? And, if you haven’t forgotten, Jack, he is my father.”The Delta huffed, stalking further into the room with a glare to hold back the sun. “I’m well aware of the genetic material you two share. I don’t have to like it. I don’t have to tolerate an intolerable man showing up to your hospital room unannounced.”“He texted me earlier, it wasn’t unannounced.”Jack huffed again. “Anyway, do you want me to get you any ice cream from the cafeteria? Rocky Road was the special today.”Mac’s eyes lit up. His favorite. And with his stomach calmed down (appetite notwithstanding), he was more willing to attempt to eat a little bit of everything.“That would be great. But do you think the room service would have it too?”“I can check.”As the two MacGyvers went back to their Scrabble game, Jack picked up the room phone and dialed patient room service. He chatted with a kind woman on the other end who confirmed that Rocky Road was the specialty ice cream for all in the hospital that evening. Jack ordered two bowls, a vanilla shake with protein, two chocolate Ensures, and a grilled cheese sandwich.Father and son played a high-stakes game of Scrabble, many of their words were foreign to Jack’s vocabulary. He mostly ignored their gameplay and sat scrolling his phone, getting ideas for future Mac-centered parties and getting the deets on the local sports teams.Mac managed to eat a healthy amount, including the grilled cheese, half an ensure, and an entire bowl of ice cream. Jack personally downed the vanilla shake - they didn’t sell them in the cafeteria, so the only way to get them was via room service. He secretly got it for Mac, hoping the kid would drink it, but also knew Mac would willingly hand over any food to Jack, probably as some sort of penance for keeping the Overwatch stuck in a hospital room twenty-four seven. And Jack was nothing if not stealthy when it came to getting what he wanted.The scrabble game was hard fought, but Mac eventually had to concede to his father.“Good game, Dad.”“You as well, Angus.”“Rematch in the future?”James stood from the table, nodding in agreement. “I will hold you to that request.”Mac smiled as his father gathered his things. Feeling worn out again, Mac climbed back into the bed, wrapping up in the familiar blankets and resorting to resting his eyes. But before James MacGyver took leave, he placed a tentative kiss on his son’s forehead, whispering he would visit again.Mac mumbled agreement as the older MacGyver slipped from the room, the sun just slipping over the edge of the horizon.  
Cycle One Day Ten (C1D10)
“Eh? Lookin’ good, right?”Mac stifled a laugh as Bozer waltzed into the hospital room, showcasing the matching pajamas he had brought for them that night. Sleepover in room 6126! The young blond had taken up residence at the table, tablet out and another research article pulled up. Exciting stuff in the world of nanotechnology.Jack has a standing date with Riley for pizza and skeeball, and while he had tried to argue Mac was more important, Mac had convinced the father figure to go. Mac wasn’t going anywhere - and Riley needed to ensure Jack was surviving too. They hadn’t seen much of each other outside of the hospital since Mac was admitted, and Jack was - becoming insufferable. If Mac heard another L.A. Angels statistic, he would find a way to destroy the sport from his hospital bed. Going out for pizza and skeeball was a good excuse for Jack to breathe fresh air and spend quality time with Riley. All a win-win in Mac’s eyes!And living up to the promise that Mac would never spend another night alone in the hospital - enter Bozer!He thought of everything. Protein shakes, matching pajamas, a scrapbook filled with Halloween costume ideas, and eight car window paint pens.Mac frowned as Bozer pulled the rainbow of pens from his messenger bag and set them on the window seat. Red, orange, black, yellow, green, blue, purple, and white.“Are you asking us to get in trouble?”“I asked the nurses. As long as it comes off upon discharge - we can paint to our hearts' content. Windows, mirrors - whatever you want. I figured some color was due in this drabby room.”“Ah. And do you have any ideas on what to paint? And are we painting for the outside world looking in, or us looking out?”Bozer shrugged, throwing a fuzzy blanket on the recliner. He scratched his chin in thought. “You’re the patient. You get to choose. But, if you want to accept my challenge -”“Backwards art it is then,” Mac confirmed, reading Bozer’s mind and accepting the challenge of increased difficulty. He got up from the table and chose the black paint pen, eyes narrowed in thought. He envisioned his bone marrow and the cells that should be growing. But unlike his paperclips (all neutrophils and monocytes), he went even further in his broad picture drawings. He included red blood cells, platelets, and all the different types of white blood cells: neutrophils, monocytes, lymphocytes (the bastards), basophils, and eosinophils. He was judicious with the colors, getting creative and distinctly separating one cell from another so none looked the same (in both color and shape). Surrounding the various cells was an outlined bone, representative of the bones that help the marrow create the cells of life.It took Mac roughly an hour to craft the window art, focus so intense that Bozer could have been screaming and his best friend wouldn’t have noticed (probably). Bozer just watched in fascination, providing Mac a safe outlet for the confusion, fear, and anger pent up after being told you have cancer. Mac met the challenge, creating realistic and anatomically correct blood cells that could be easily viewed from the outside world. In all honestly, Bozer understood them well from the inside view too, so it wasn’t that difficult of a challenge - not for Mac, anyway.As Mac swiped the last color across the fractured platelets, Bozer pointed out each cell with practiced memorization. He had taken to understand his best friend’s diagnosis with a seriousness unbeknownst to the blonde. Bozer dug deep into the literature to understand the normal function of the bone marrow, the lymph system, and lymph nodes, and how cancer went out of its way to create havoc within the body. Blood cancer typically was not confined to one spot; however, lymphomas could be staged depending on where the tumor was placed or if it had invaded the marrow and/or traveled from node to node. Mac’s cancer was - strange, both in the bone marrow/blood and holding mass in two lymph nodes and the mediastinum/chest area.  As the sun set beyond the window pane, Mac slipped into the bathroom to change into the matching pajamas, humoring his best friend-turned-roommate-turned-coworker-secret-agent. They were blue plaid - one of Mac’s favorite patterns. Being free from the IV pole meant changing was so much easier. He was careful with his left arm, maneuvering the PICC lumens through the sleeve with practiced ease. How he had become so used to the management of a medical device - he’d ask whatever higher power there was out there why him of all people had to get cancer. The lights were dimmed as he exited the bathroom, Bozer smiling wickedly from the table.“Second challenge of the night: can you beat me?”The stage had been set. The classic game of Monopoly was posed and ready for hours of entertainment. They could - and probably would - play all night just to find out who topped the financial prowess ladder and claimed the title of millionaire trust fund baby. The longest game they had played (with Jack and Riley also involved) lasted seventy-eight hours - and that was just playing the game. That didn’t include rest breaks, meal breaks, work/mission breaks, or the occasional yelling match. Everyone thought Mac cheated - he did NOT, he was just really good at math.Mac grinned, sliding into the seat across from Bozer. A chocolate protein shake was already set beside the board, calling Mac’s name. Bozer had his drink of choice - a tropical capri-sun. Alcohol would have been preferred, especially when playing Monopoly against Mac, but it wasn’t exactly kosher to bring into the hospital. “You ready to be crushed, old man?”Hand to heart, Bozer scoffed, a smile creeping up as they both rolled the die to find out who got the coveted first turn. Bozer rolled a five, and Mac rolled a measly one. The game commenced, lasting five hours, thirty-three minutes, and fifteen seconds (if it had been timed to the second…). Somehow, some way, Bozer managed to win as the clock struck one in the morning. Secretly, Mac may have let Bozer win - but that was between the door and the fencepost if anyone actually asked Mac about it.They stayed up for another two hours discussing Halloween, fast approaching in just over two months. The question hanging in the air: would Mac be well enough to hold a party? Bozer could certainly plan and host it, but if the timing was calculated correctly, the 31st of October could be when Mac was experiencing the worst side effects of his treatment. And unfortunately, they both knew that chemo has a cumulative effect - he may be doing well for this first cycle, but come cycle four or five, Mac could be feeling pretty shitty. The unknowns of the future hung over their entire conversation - but Mac would never stop Bozer from chatting excitedly about Halloween costumes. They both craved normalcy and looking forward to one of their favorite holidays was a good distraction.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Will this season ever pass? Can we stop this ride? Will we see the sun at last? Or could this be our lot in life? Please do not let go, I promise you there's hope

(Hold Fast by MercyMe)

Cycle One Day Twelve (C1D12)

Mac woke up shivering.

He had started to feel terrible the day before, with a persistent migraine headache sitting in his peripheral, appetite back down to zero, and fatigue worse off than ever before. High-protein shakes were his best friend. Mac was no stranger to the wonder drinks as a runner - small portions that packed a high protein punch. They were also valuable for a quick meal when running across the world without stopping much to think. Then again, Mac was the sort of person to forget to eat when life got busy. And work tended always to be busy. He knew that he shouldn’t lose or gain weight with this treatment - at least, that was the hope. The water weight from the steroids had finally started to come off, the puffiness of his face, arms, and legs dissipating over the course of a couple of days. Now Mac just looked - well, sick. The bruising was slow to heal, and he was always pale. Even after a blood transfusion every few days.

Getting out of bed seemed absolutely unappealing at two in the afternoon, so Mac tried to occupy himself with a book but couldn’t focus. And the shivering came and went, a sure sign of something foreboding happening within his body.

Jack had been called to the Phoenix on an urgent matter early that morning, and he had only gone on the promise he wouldn’t leave the building, let alone the country.

Mac had been starting to feel bad for keeping Jack confined to such a small space in the hospital, so there was some relief in knowing his Overwatch was being helpful in other ways. Don’t get him wrong, Mac was grateful for Jack’s constant support. But he could tell the big Delta was getting cabin fever.

Mac was about to force himself to get something productive done, whether that was shower, eat, or at least get out of bed, when his hospital room door swung open, and in walked his boss. Miss Matilda Webber.

“Matty.”

Her heels clicked across the linoleum floor as she made her way across the room. “Mac. How are you?”

“Wondering what my boss is doing here at two in the afternoon on a weekday.” He drew the dark blue blanket over his shoulders, trying to ward off the cold.

“Huh. It’s five o’clock somewhere.” She eyed the vacant recliner and headed for it, eyes carefully tracking her agent.

Mac frowned. “On the east coast, sure.”

Matty made herself comfortable in the recliner before sighing. “I figured you could use some company since your father wrangled Jack into being verbal tactical for a group in Colombia. And before you protest, Oversight tried four other options before reaching out for Jack’s help.”

“Oh, no, I could tell he was getting squirrely. He can admit to being fine all he wants, I know Jack. He needed a distraction.”

“And what about you?” She was thoughtful as she stared at him. He was pale but flushed, a red sheen traveling up his neck into his face. And if she didn’t know him any better, she’d even say he was breathing more rapidly.

Typically, Mac was the stoic type. Didn’t show emotion in front of anyone - especially his boss. But somehow, someway, all of his defenses were hanging on by a thin thread traversing this new Normal. Matty felt immense sympathy for him as he visibly wilted in her presence, exhaustion apparent in his facial features. “I would be of no use to anyone in my current state.”

She was quiet before responding. “Yeah, you don’t look good, Blondie.”

“I’m cold. Tired. Sick. Take your pick.”

She noted the slight uptick in irritability and the glazed-over look. The pinched skin just beside the eyes. Migraine headache and - a fever, if she had to guess.

“Have you mentioned any of this to your nurse?”

“No,” Mac frowned, shaking his head. “I don’t want to bother them.”

Self-preservation had never been one of Mac’s strong suits, considering his line of work and how frequently he ended up in Phoenix Medical injured. Pulling Jack out of a fire without protection. Stabbing himself with scissors for adrenaline during exposure to a deadly nerve gas. Frost-bite on more than one occasion. Flash burns from one too many explosions. Radiation exposure in Chernobyl. Getting himself kidnapped and beat up on more than one occasion. Never installing a security system at his home, which every enemy knew about and could locate with their eyes closed. The list was endless.

Mac burrowed into the blankets, face barely visible in his cocoon. “I’m probably just overly tired. I haven’t been sleeping well, and the chemo really knocked me on my ass.”

She was up out of the chair and at his side in a moment, concern in every feature. “I see the flushed face, the pinched eyes. The migraine headache you want to hide. There is something else going on.” She placed a hand on his forehead, his skin burning to the touch.

Oh, Mac

.

As if her observations were the final thread holding the younger man together, she saw him break, his meager defenses falling like embers on the wind. Tears in fever-glazed eyes. A quiet sob of distress. He wasn’t outright crying, but she saw the pain and the fear as he gave up trying to be strong. He was done holding it together.

He wanted to be fine - desperate to be fine - but everything that could go wrong was going wrong all of a sudden. He was cold, tired, and fatigued, in pain, feverish, nauseous, and dizzy. He had been doing so well, desperate to manifest healthy cells.

On instinct, Matty punched the call light.

Hello, this is Alison.

“Hey, Alison. Would you or someone be able to come check up on Mac, please? He’s not feeling very well.”

Of course, I’ll find his nurse right away.

The line went quiet and Mac whimpered, eyes squeezed shut in - pain, frustration, fear? Matty didn’t know.

“Hey -”

They were interrupted by Colin’s arrival to the room. One look at Mac and Colin’s face filled with sympathy.

“Hey, Mac. I heard you weren’t feeling well. Can you describe how you’re feeling?” Colin asked, all while reaching for the vital signs equipment, expertly easing on the blood pressure cuff and pulse oximeter as Mac slowly slid the blanket down.

“Shit. I feel like shit.” Mac groaned as the blood pressure cuff inflated. “MIgraine, headache. I'm cold and nauseous and so tired. A little dizzy. And - I’ve been shivering on and off all morning.”

Colin swiped the temporal thermometer across Mac’s forehead and instantly frowned. He waited for the thermometer to reach room temperature before repeating the temperature.

“Well, I have bad news and good news. The good news is that all your symptoms are related to the same thing. The bad news is that you have another fever.”

It had been roughly ten days since Mac had last spiked a fever, when the chemo was first infusing, and Mac’s immune system was steadily on the decline. A fever now could only indicate one thing: an actual infection. Mac had no way to fight an infection - he had no functioning immune system. He could manifest monocytes and neutrophils all he wanted - he couldn’t do a darn thing about it if his bone marrow wasn’t up to making them for him. And seeing as he was more than likely at his nadir, it meant he was at risk of sepsis and ending up in the intensive care unit.

The blood pressure machine beeped, and Colin’s frown deepened even further. All of the numbers were out of the normal range. As he untethered Mac from the blood pressure cuff, he made note of Mac’s respiratory rate. Between the low oxygen saturation and fast respiratory rate, Colin was worried about Mac experiencing hypoxia.

“Okay, Mac. I’m gonna give you some oxygen because you’re a little low.”

Mac visibly flinched at Colin’s report. “No mask.”

The nurse nodded, uncurling a new nasal cannula and handing it to Mac to apply. Matty gently coaxed him to put it on, reminding him he was safe. Once Colin was satisfied with the numbers coming from the pulse oximeter, he moved quickly towards the computer.

“I’m sorry, Mac, but we also gotta hook you back up to the IV pole. I’m gonna get the antibiotic orders going and then grab supplies for the blood cultures, antibiotics, and fluids. I'm also gonna call the lab to come poke you for a peripheral blood culture. Keep that pulse oximeter on - I’m gonna watch you a bit more closely now. Your blood pressure is lower than I would like.”

Mac’s face could only be described as crestfallen. “What was it?”

“97/43, with your mean arterial pressure (MAP) at 64. I’ll give you a bolus of fluids and closely monitor how you’re feeling. Do you want anything for your migraine?”

Mac nodded, mumbling yes.

Fingers flew over the keyboard for about sixty seconds, and then Colin rushed out the door. “Be right back.”

Matty was quiet, just watching Mac. His nose was scrunched against the nasal cannula, dried tear tracks down each flushed cheek, and he couldn’t stop visibly shivering. Eyeing an extra blanket nearby, Matty unfolded it over Mac’s form, a hand cupping his right cheek.

“I’m here, Mac.”

The onslaught of healthcare workers shouldn’t have surprised Matty - but their focus was laser as they worked together to keep Mac from decompensating further. Over the course of thirty minutes, there was a poke in the arm, blood drawn from the PICC line, fluids and antibiotics hung, and three pills swallowed.

Matty was rightfully sidelined to the window seat as they worked, her phone alerting her to the success of the mission Jack had been participating in at headquarters. He would likely be headed back to the hospital soon once debriefed. Then he would hover over her sick agent, mad at himself for not noticing Mac’s new symptoms and Matty berating him for trying to be God. So, it's not a new day in their life by any means.

She pocketed the technology as the phlebotomist left and Colin worked on giving Mac much-needed fluids through his IV. Due to the emergent need to get Mac’s blood pressure up, the fluids were being pressure bagged in via gravity, everyone praying and hoping fluids would do the trick. With patients at risk of sepsis, there was a fragile line between fluid resuscitation and the need for vasopressors like norepinephrine, vasopressin, dopamine, and epinephrine. Between the need to perfuse the brain and the kidneys, the heart had a lot of work to do. And in someone like Mac - boy-genius Baby Einstein - the brain and the heart were the most critical parts of the whole body.

Matty didn’t even realize she had been holding her breath when Colin cycled the last blood pressure after the fluids finished infusing. It was, thankfully, above the target MAP of 65. Colin gave Mac reassurance he was safe to stay where he was for now, but Colin would be watching his vitals and symptoms more closely. Any further decline over the next few hours could signal the need for a higher level of care, like the intensive care unit.

Once Colin had slipped from the room, Mac rolled over in bed, eyes tired and vision blurry. He felt like

shit

.

With the action mainly diminished to background noise, Matty tentatively approached the bed. Mac heard her coming, though, eyes popping open at her presence. She saw the lost look in those baby blues, the still-glazed gloss of fever and pain, their focus not directed at anything Matty could see. His face was flushed, and his nose wrinkled in discomfort again at having to wear the oxygen cannula. He had curled onto his right side, hands restless on the blanket, fingers absently twisting a stray strand.

She smoothed a hand over sweat-soaked blond strands, a sad smile on her face. Thankfully, the shivering had stopped, and his breaths weren’t as fast. But she felt for him and the ordeal he had to endure in the fight for his life.

“I’m sorry, Mac.”

He took a deep breath, eyes flickering over to her. She saw the exhaustion, the struggle to stay awake.

“What if I - what if I don’t make it out of here?”

And her heart broke. He looked so small in the big hospital bed. So she did the only thing she knew how. She gently took her agent’s hands and lightly squeezed. Who was she kidding? He wasn’t just an agent to her. He was a friend, a comrade. She prayed hard and fast to whoever would listen that she not lose this boy. She couldn’t lose him. That fear was nestled deep: that this would be the thing to end Angus MacGyver. And she’d be damned if she didn’t fight the universe for him to live just one more day past the end.

“Shhhh. I can’t promise everything will be okay, but I can promise that you are loved and cherished, and we will be with you through every single moment you have to endure this diagnosis. And if I have to pull every string imaginable to ensure you get out of here, then so be it. What use is my power as Director of a covert government agency if I can’t get one of my best and brightest out of the hospital? Now, rest. We’ll be here when you wake up.”