Chapter Text
LAKE COMO, ITALY
The first thing Mac realized was that he was being carried, the second thing he realized was that he’d died.
Death left a very specific taste in his mouth, ashy, like he’d taken a big mouthful of a burned out campfire.
In addition to the taste — though that was always the most distinctive sign — was the bitter cold. Even being soaked in freezing water, as he also happened to be, failed to elicit the depths of cold that haunted him after a revival. It felt like his heart was pumping ice-water instead of blood.
Suddenly he was being lowered, a hand cupping the back of his head on the way down to keep it from knocking against the ground. That alone was enough to cue Mac in on who’d been carrying him. In the list of people who cared about him, he didn’t know anyone else who was strong enough and stubborn enough to lug around his frozen corpse.
A hand roughly patted his cheek. “C’mon man. Come back to me.”
Another pat and Mac’s body helpfully decided to let him know that his lungs were not happy with him.
The hands helpfully turned him over onto his side as he coughed. “There we go!”
Mac miserably curled in on himself as Jack enthusiastically slapped his shoulder. “N-not helping.”
“Sorry.” Jack’s hand, far more gently, reappeared on Mac’s forehead to push his soaking wet hair back out of his eyes. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”
Mac managed to open his eyes and craned his head around to look at Jack. Wherever they were was almost pitch black, just the faint light of the moon giving any sort of indistinct impression of Jack’s face.
“W-what—“
Jacks hand flattened over Mac’s forehead. It felt almost unbearably hot and Mac was caught between the urge to flinch away and to lean into it. “Jesus, man, you’re an ice cube.”
“Th-that happens.”
“You’re soaking wet too, that sure ain’t helping.” Jack tugged him to be sitting upright and got to work on the buttons of Mac’s shirt. “I’d give ya my clothes but they aren’t much drier.”
Mac squeezed his eyes shut. His brain felt like it was moving glacially slowly, like it too had to unthaw just like the rest of him. “We jumped off the boat.”
“Yup, then, while I was laid out like a damn rookie, somebody decided it was a good idea to get shot in the chest and take another little swim.”
Mac’s hand abruptly rose to his left upper chest, slipping under his shirt to feel the skin. There was a small circular depression that was feverishly hot. “How’d you know?”
“Cuz that’s—” Jack tugged Mac’s hand away from it. “—where all the blood was coming from.”
Mac grabbed Jack’s wrist as his overwatch started to try and tug his soaked shirt off. “Nikki.”
“Haven’t seen her, or the canister.” Jack’s voice went heavy. “If they took her we will get her back, I promise you, hoss.”
“No.” Mac’s voice came out far more small and pathetic than he’d wanted it to. “They shot her, right before me. Chest.”
Jack’s breath drained out of him. “Fuck.”
Mac closed his eyes. Jack was silent for a long moment.
“The van.” Mac’s voice cracked so he cleared his voice and tried again. “Did they take it?”
“No, but they slashed the tires.” Jack said dolefully. “Can ride on the rims for a bit, but not far and certainly not fast.”
“We don’t need to.” Mac took a long breath and opened his eyes. “Nikki has—“ his voice gave out again and Jack flinched.
Mac swallowed. “There’s plenty of stuff in there for me to work with. Even if they sabotaged it I should be able to work up a way to contact DXS. Just help me up.”
Jack obediently grabbed Mac’s elbows and hauled him up to standing. He didn’t even give Mac the opportunity to falter before wedging himself under Mac’s arm and hauling him towards the back of the van.
Jack hopped into the van after Mac, then crouched staring at him expectantly.
Mac scooted back further into the van, hugging his arms around himself.
After a brief, awkward, silence, Jack raised an eyebrow. “…so?”
“Jack—“ Mac bit out sharply before cutting himself off with a sigh of frustration. He held up a hand, demonstrating how shaky it was. “I’m sorry, but I just died so you’re going to have to give me a minute to warm up. I’ll get on it as soon as I have use of my hands.”
Jack grimaced. “Shit, sorry, let me run the heat.”
Mac just hummed, hugging his arms around his legs and dropping his forehead onto them. He could hear Jack move around, closing the back of the van and crawling to the front of the van to start it running.
Lights turned on after a second, glowing yellow, and Mac blearily lifted his head and blinked the dots out of his vision.
A blanket was tossed over his head from behind and Mac wrapped it around himself immediately, desperate for the heat.
Jack stepped around him and crouched in front of him, frowning.
Mac sighed, hugging his blanket tighter around himself. “How’s your head?”
“New rule: you cannot ask me how I’m doing after you just died.”
“I got better.” Mac managed a weak smile. “I don’t think your head did.”
“I’ll survive.” Jack’s frown grew. “Wait, is that insensitive?”
Mac choked on a short laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.
Jack smiled, faintly, then grabbed one of Mac’s hands to begin rubbing some feeling back into it.
As the next few minutes trickled by, heat began to finally pour through the car. It was about ten minutes of scrounging up all the blankets he could alternated with chafing Mac’s hands that Jack finally spoke up again, voice frustrated and worried.
“Jesus, kid, have you warmed up at all? You’re still freezing to the touch.”
“This is just what a revival is like.” Mac grimaced. “I think Cairo and Afghanistan weren’t this bad because they were hot.”
“I can’t believe I wasn’t there.” Jack’s tone dropped, quiet and sober. Mac didn’t know if he was talking about being knocked out while Mac and Nikki were shot, or if he was talking about Mac’s other deaths. Or both. Jack paused chafing Mac’s hand to duck his head and blow hot air between his cupped hands.
“I don’t blame you.” Mac said finally.
Jack’s lips pinched. The self-flagellating ‘I do’ was both silent and deafeningly loud.
Mac grimaced. The atmosphere in the van was crushing, he felt frozen alive, and his chest hurt. From burgeoning grief or being shot he wasn’t sure and didn’t quite care. He tugged his hand away from Jack.
“I can get started now.” He said with a certainty he didn’t feel.
Jack raised an eyebrow. “On what? Not being a popsicle? I’d appreciate that.”
“No, really.” Mac shook out his hands. He turned to grab a bin of replacement computer parts from under the nearby desk. “I mean, whats the worst that can happen? I get hypothermic and die again? Hardly the end of the world.”
“Hey!” Jack’s voice sharpened, the edge of a growl peaking through. He grabbed Mac’s arm and tugged him back around to face him. “What the hell, man?”
“What?” Mac returned, aggrieved. “I’ll just— I’d just come back. It’s fine.”
“No.” The growl came out in full force. “Fuck you, honestly, that’s not even remotely fine.”
Mac huffed out a frustrated sigh. “Jack, listen—“
“No, you listen.” Jack stabbed a finger into Mac’s chest, thankfully giving the area he’d been shot a wide berth. “Firstly, have you ever died twice in close succession?”
“I’ve never tried it, no.” Mac tried to inject a touch of humor, but for once Jack wasn’t having it.
“Yeah, that’s right.” Jack snapped. “Never. Secondly, you dying is never fine. It wouldn’t be if I always knew you’d come back, and it definitely isn’t when every fucking time I don’t know if you’ll come back to me or not.”
Jack took a shaky breath, evidently running out of steam a little. “So don’t you give me that bullshit, alright? Ever. It will always matter.”
Mac felt his eyes burn and reflexively tilted his head back to help force back the threatening tears. “It’s just—“ His voice was weak bereft of its earlier bite. “It’s just not fair, is it? That I get all these second chances while everyone I love—“ his voice broke off and he gave up on continuing.
“Aw, kid.” Jack’s warm hand cupped the back of Mac’s neck and tugged. Mac resisted for a second but eventually curled forwards, letting his forehead drop onto Jack’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Mac.”
Mac squeezed his eyes shut, too choked up to attempt to respond. He worked on reigning in his emotions.
Jack rubbed burning circles into his back.
Trapped between them, Mac’s hands slowly began to warm.