Chapter Text
Mac knew he was dreaming.
There was no other explanation for the haze of the world around him. He didn't remember how he had gotten here, couldn't really say where "here" was for that matter.
The walls around him were out of focus, but that was fine. Near as he could tell he was walking through the hall of a daycare, a strange thing to dream about, but no cause for alarm.
In the back of his mind Mac was sure he was supposed to be doing something, something important. He got the feeling that he was in some sort of danger but it was hard to sort out why.
As if he were watching someone else, Mac felt himself stop at a door in the dreamscape hallway. He scribbled something into a clipboard by wrote just in time to catch the little body that launched itself into his arms.
"Daddy! Lookit, lookit what I made!!" Squeaked a tiny voice from under a massive flurry of dark hair.
Mac found himself combing back the curls on instinct to reveal a pair of beautiful brown eyes that were at the same time brand new and achingly familiar.
The little girl held up a paper full of multi-colored squiggles with a proud grin.
"Good job baby girl!" Mac felt the words leave his throat.
His body knew what to do; collect the girl's bag, wave goodbye to teacher, head out to the car. But in his head Mac was floored.
He looked down into the face of what could only be his daughter. He took in her dark hair and warm brown eyes that must belong to her mother, but that was his dimpled cheek and his crooked grin on her beautiful little face.
He stared in awe at his child as she babbled happily about her day. He had so many questions to ask her; who was her mother, how did he get here, what was her name? But in this dream state his body wouldn't cooperate.
His baby lead him by the hand further and further along. At some point the dream shifted and they were walking through the woods. He could hear voices in the trees, voices he could swear he knew calling out his name like whispers on the breeze.
"Oh," the child's hand suddenly clutched his tighter. "Daddy, you're hurt!"
"What, no I'm not honey," Mac tried to reassure her.
Her little head nodded insistently while her eyes welled up with tears. "You are! Your hurt!"
Mac was on his knees holding his baby close, trying to give her some kind of comfort, all while blocking out the voices growing more insistent on the air.
"I'm fine baby, Daddy's fine. Daddy's not hurt." He tried to soothe, running a hand down her wild dark hair. But he could tell by the sobs into his chest and the way her little body trembled in his arms that she didn't believe him.
"Yes you are," she insisted. "Look!" She held up two little hands, now both slick up to the elbow with what Mac knew to be his blood.
The voices in the wind were screaming for him now. His daughter was crying and pulling on his shoulder, and Mac had never felt so helpless. Little bloodstained hands pushed him to lie on his back.
"Go back, Daddy! You have to go back!"
"I'm not leaving you alone!" He said, or tried to as he coughed up blood. His baby screamed.
"Go back to Mama!" She sobbed, pulling at his shirt. "Mama will fix you! Find Mama!"
With a moment of sudden clarity, he reached out a hand to lift her beautiful little face up to his and called her by name; "Jacqueline."
She smiled through her tears and whispered "bye, Daddy." Before everything went black.
When his eyes opened again the world made more sense. He remembered the mission to transport political prisoners through the mountains. He remembered Riley falling behind and going back for her while Desi and Boze lead the others.
He remembered the attack and Riley screaming his name, he even had a vague recollection of of being carried out via helicopter. Yes the world made sense again.
But why then could he still see his daughter in his mind? Why did he know what it felt like to hold her slight weight in his arms? Why did his heart break when she wasn't by his hospital bed, holding his hand? And why, oh why, did his daughter who only existed in his mind, look just like Riley?