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asflowersfade · 6 years

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Ficlet: By His Side (Always)

A MacGyver ficlet. This one means a lot to me. I don’t even know why.

So many changes in their lives. Mac’s still an asset, Jack’s still his bodyguard. Everything else’s different. A future fic. Jack’s POV.

It’s those damn birds that wake him up, again, screeching their little hearts out right outside his window, those sick bastards. He would throw a shoe at them, again, but he still hasn’t found the last one yet.

With a groan, Jack rolls onto his side and peers at the alarm clock blearily. 6.37 am. Jesus tap-dancing Christ, he’s too old for this shit.

He could try falling asleep again but it wouldn’t do, he knows, he’s too cranky now. And so, with a resigned sigh, he crawls out of bed and stretches carefully, enjoying the cracks and pops in his joints and the ache in his muscles. Then he scratches his belly and gives his near future a deep thought: shower or coffee? And since they’ve just had yet another hot summer night and he feels as sticky as a well roasted marshmallow, he decides that shower it is. And heads for the adjoining bathroom.

Showered and brushed - shaving’s reserved for special occasions these days - Jack dresses in clean clothes - he really needs to do laundry soon - shoving a gun into his side holster - just a precaution - and heads for the kitchen to make coffee.

The open-space kitchen slash living room’s already full of bright sunlight when he steps out of the short hallway leading up to the bedrooms in the “west wing” as they like to call the left side of their cabin. The “east wing”, the right side of their home, is pretty much a mirror image in design, only there’s just one big room there instead of two smaller ones.

And by said room’s door, there in the shadowy recess of the opposite hallway, there’s a small red light blinking, signaling a transmission in progress. It makes Jack pause and lift an eyebrow. He wonders how long that’s been going on. He should check it out but first, coffee!

He starts the state of the art coffeemaker going - he insisted on that one; before, he used to drink any sludge available, as long as there was caffeine in it, but these days, he likes to actually enjoy his coffee, thank you very much! - and then he heads for the living room with its comfy furniture, a big stone fireplace - and an even bigger TV! Another thing he insisted on.

While the coffeemaker’s doing its thing, burbling and hissing quietly on the counter, Jack switches the TV on and several smaller screens pop up on the big one: surveillance in black and white, cameras set at various angles all around the cabin and the surrounding woods; one’s even aimed down at the lake. All seems to be working right, all looks clear. Later on, he’ll have to go through the night feeds in greater detail, just to be sure, but not before coffee.

The coffeemaker beeps cheerily and Jack walks around the counter to pour himself a mug. Oh yes, he thinks as he closes his eyes in pure bliss, inhaling the strong aroma of a really good coffee, living the good life. Then he pours another cup, grabs a bottle of water out of the fridge and heads for the “east wing” and for their very own “war room” there.

He has to fumble with the mugs and the bottle for a bit to press his right hand to the scanner by the door, but finally the door clicks softly and then unseals itself with a little hiss of pressurized air. He nudges the door with his hip.

Walking in, Jack has to pause and let his eyes adjust; the room’s dark - there’re no windows in here and the lights are off - and he would hate to trip, considering the floor is sunken a good three feet below the main level. It’s all done as a precaution, for protection, just like everything else in the cabin. From what Jack understands, a missile could hit their home and this room would survive, maybe a little shaken in its proverbial boots but otherwise intact.

There’s a wall of screens opposite the door, glowing with images of a… desert, it seems. Someone with a camera - probably clipped to his or her vest - is running, hiding, then running again, headed for a ramshackle building, barely discernible in the gathering twilight. If it’s a live feed, it must be somewhere in... Asia? Probably, considering the time difference. Then the camera catches a glimpse of another figure, running along - a man in a desert camo. Ah, Jack thinks, one of those missions…

Finally able to see again, he walks down the steps and heads for the ergonomic chair, made of real leather so buttery soft it makes one want to weep, facing the screens. “Here,” he whispers, handing over one of the mugs.

Mac looks up with a grateful smile and accepts it, wrapping his right hand tightly around the handle. “Thanks,” he whispers back, inhaling deeply; yeah, even Mac learned to appreciate good coffee.

Soft voices are rasping out of the speakers, issuing and accepting orders. Jack sets the bottle of water down on the small table by the chair, then he taps at his ear and points at the screen in a “Can they hear us?” gesture.

Mac takes a little sip of his coffee - it’s still rather hot - and setting the cup down on the table next to the water bottle, he switches something off on the console that seems a part of the chair. “Now they can’t. We have a moment before they need me again,” he says.

“What’s going on?” Jack asks, watching the men, US soldiers from the look of it, sneak closer to the building. There’re two very quiet puffs and a lookout by the door drops dead, then the one at the corner of the house.

Mac points at the screens with his right hand, his left one cradled in his lap. “That’s a terrorist hideout,” he informs Jack simply. “Based on our intel, these people might’ve gotten their hands on a live nuke. The guys had to get in right away to grab it, they couldn’t wait for an expert to arrive and accompany them so…”

“They called you,” Jack finishes for him.

“Yeah,” Mac says. “I got the call at two in the morning, while they were already on the plane. We’ve been going through the basics ever since. Luckily, one of them went through an EOD training so they won’t be going in completely blind.”

Mac reaches out for his mug to take another sip - and in the glow of the screens Jack catches the little twist of Mac’s lip, the tightness in his face as he sets the mug down again, the tremble in his left leg as he tries to find a more comfortable position.

“How’s the pain?” Jack asks, aiming straight for the heart of the matter.

Now Mac grimaces openly but he also answers truthfully; he’s learned long ago not to lie to Jack about these things, he learned it the very hard way. “Bad,” he admits, sighing. “I haven’t had the time to take my meds yet.”

“Alright. Do you want them now or once this is over?” Jack points at the screens with his chin.

“After,” Mac replies immediately. “They need to get out of there within the next hour or so or they’re all dead anyway, bomb or not. Besides, I need my head clear for this. It is a live nuke we’re talking about here.”

Jack nods. “Fine. I’ll make breakfast and have your meds waiting for you in an hour.”

Mac grimaces again. “I’m not really hungry.”

“Egg-white omlets it is, then. With sausages and pepper. And hash browns,” Jack adds, enjoying the look of horror on Mac’s face; yup, he’s in for a lecture about cholesterol over breakfast. Honestly, he can’t wait.

“9-1-1, you there?” a voice crackles out of the speakers.

Mac flips the switch on his console back on. “Yes. What’s your status?”

“Two guards down, two to go. Geiger Counter quiet.”

Smiling, Mac replies, “That’s good, team leader. We’ll have you on your way back, safe and sound, in no time.”

Jack stands there a moment longer, watching the men on the screens take out two more bad guys and then enter the building. That used to be him, during his Delta Force days, then later on working for the CIA and in Afghanistan, spying for the Phoenix Foundation, and a part of him misses it, the action and the thrill. But another part, a much bigger part, is glad to be where he is right now.

He pats Mac on the shoulder and heads out, mug in hand, to let the kid focus on his job.

Jack takes his coffee out, down to the lake, and walks along the pebbled shore for a while. He has his phone on him, should Mac need anything, but Jack would be of no help to him right now. Assisting people in the field, that’s Mac’s job; under the code name 9-1-1 he seems to have made a name for himself over the last few years. But he also made new enemies. And it’s Jack’s job to make sure that nobody gets to him, just like always. Only these days, they don’t run around the world anymore, no. The world needs to come to them.

His phone rings and Jack pulls it out of his pocket with a smile. A special ringtone for a special person. “Hey, Matty. What are you doing up so early?” He stares across the lake, sipping his coffee and breathing in the fresh air with relish.

“Some of us are actually working, Dalton,” she snaps back playfully. “But why are you up at this hour? You’ve never been a morning person. I would’ve loved to wake you up and make you miserable.”

“You would!” Jack replies, chuckling. “It’s those damn birds, Matty. I swear, one of these days I’ll just shoot them all and make myself a roast!”

She laughs too. Then she asks, “How’s our boy wonder?” Her tone’s light but there’s genuine concern for Mac there. She’s always worried but much more so ever since the explosion that almost killed Mac, scarring him both physically and mentally for life.

“Working at the moment,” he says simply, not going into details. This might be a secure line but even those have ears these days.

“But how is he?” Matty asks again. She’s not asking about his job for the army and the various alphabet soup agencies. She’s asking about Mac as a person.

Jack sighs, still staring out across the lake. “Not getting any better, physically.”

“We knew that, Jack,” she says softly. “The doctors did tell us that this was as good as it would ever get.”

Pausing for a moment, Jack says, “I know. It’s just killing me, seeing him like this. I would switch places with him in a heartbeat if I could but I can’t and-and sometimes, sometimes that makes me so mad I want to punch something.” He takes a harsh breath and lets it out. “But I learned to be grateful that he’s still alive. Small miracles and all that.”

“Yeah,” Matty responds. “You said physically. How about the other stuff?”

Jack takes a gulp of his coffee, now only lukewarm. “His nightmares are almost gone. His PTSD’s getting better, too, slowly. The peace and quiet around here helps. He’s still not ready for big crowds, though. Not after--”

Not after the bomb that he couldn’t disarm and that almost killed him - and that did kill five people down in Miami. The Ghost’s present and his revenge in one. The madman finally found a bomb that Mac couldn’t defuse. It was almost the same scenario as in Mac’s house all those years before - two bombs, connected through a wireless receiver - almost but for two slight modifications: a motion sensor and, most importantly, a timer ticking down fast.

Disarm this one and the other one, hidden somewhere else, will blow up. Let this one explode and the other one will deactivate on its own. Control the number of casualties or leave it to fate. Choose, MacGyver, choose...

Mac made a judgment call. He let the one he found go. He let the timer run out while they tried to evacuate as many people as possible from the bus terminal where it was found. Still, five people didn’t make it and Mac, too, got caught in the blast. The other bomb, they found it in a hospital later on. It would’ve killed many, many more people if it exploded. Still, Mac never forgave himself.

But they never talk about this, at least not with the others, about The Aftermath. About the weeks Jack spent in the hospital, at Mac’s bed, trying to keep his best friend alive through sheer force of will. It was a dark time, between the explosion and Matty’s new job offer. Because when it became clear that Mac would never be able to go back in the field, there came the question, now what?

Jack turns to look at their log cabin. It was built with the help of the Phoenix Foundation, the men and women who usually maintained safe houses - which this turned out to be for Mac. A sanctuary, a workplace, a new home. Jack and Bozer helped with the rough jobs while Riley and Cage outfitted the house with the best tech and best security measures, their little family banding together to help one of their own.

And then they moved in and Mac became an asset of a different kind, always there, always knowing what to do, just a phone call away, but safe, hidden in the middle of nowhere and with Jack guarding him both from his enemies and his inner demons alike.

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for a moment, phone still pressed to his ear. He’s been quiet for a while but Matty’s waiting him out, she understands. She knows when to push and when not. And he’s never loved the woman more than in this moment.

“He would like to see you guys in person again,” Jack says, opening his eyes and looking up at the blue, blue sky. “He misses you. And so do I.”

“And we miss you, too,” Matty replies softly. “The team’s on a mission right now but once they’re back, we would love to come for a visit.”

“Speaking of which, how are they doing?” he asks, smiling a little.

There’s a smile in Matty’s voice, too, when she replies, “They’re doing great, Jack. Cage, Riley and Bozer have become one of our best teams.”

“Not as good as me and Mac, though, right?” Jack protest, mock affronted.

“No, Jack. No one’s better than you two, I promise,” she says kindly and it makes Jack’s chest feel warm.

Then he sees the cabin door open and Mac steps out onto the back porch. Leaning heavily on his cane, he walks up to the railing and waves down at Jack, just a little with his weak left hand before he curls it around his midriff again. In the bright morning sun the scars covering the whole left side of his body seem more visible than ever and Jack’s heart aches for his friend again.

But at the same time, seeing Mac there, alive and actually smiling down at him, makes him happy. Mac’s here and he’s safe, despite everything, which is much better than the alternative. Jack lifts his mug in acknowledgment - his coffee’s now gone cold - and starts heading up the slope, back towards the cabin again.

“I gotta go, Matty,” he says into the phone. “His Highness left the audience room and will be expecting breakfast now.”

She laughs a little. “Tell Mac I said hi.” But then she sobers a little and asks him the same question she asks every time. “Do you regret it?”

Jack doesn’t need to ask what. Do you regret leaving your job? Do you regret moving out here where there’s nothing but trees and ducks? Do you regret giving up your whole life to guard this brilliant broken nerd whom you couldn’t love more if he were your own flesh and blood?

And his answer is the same as always. “No.”

Then he hangs up, and putting his phone away, he runs up the slope, chiding Mac before he even reaches him, “You said I had an hour!”

Mac, who’s standing there, waiting for him, shrugs. “It was easier than I expected. When they said ‘live nuke’ I thought it would be something actually complicated. Turns out it wasn’t. But do you really want to hear about that?”

Jack walks across the porch and holds the door open for Mac, who hobbles inside, his cane tap-tap-tapping against the hardwood. “Do I want to hear about a nuke on the other side of the world? Hm, let me think. Did it go kaboom? No? That’s enough for me.

“Oh, by the way, Matty says hi,” Jack adds as he passes Mac on his way to the kitchen.

Grimacing a little, Mac sits down on one of the stools at the counter. “Did you talk about me?” he asks, a little annoyed.

Unruffled, Jack replies, pouring Mac a glass of apple juice, “Always.”

Mac glares at him but then his frown turns into a grateful little smile when Jack sets the glass down in front of him together with several pills of various shapes and colors.

“So, breakfast, then!” Jack says, rubbing his hands. It’s not a question. Mac’s appetite hasn’t been what it used to be since the incident and if it were left up to him, he would exist on dry toast only.

Mac swallows a pill and nods, replying as expected, “A toast will do.”

Jack laughs. “Think again, buddy.”

Smiling, Mac suggests a compromise. “And... blueberry jam?”

“No food that turns any part of your body blue can be good for you!” Jack states, shaking his head, mock disturbed.

“And all that fat clogging your arteries is?” Mac asks with raised eyebrows.

Jack points a finger at him. “But at least I can’t see that!”

“No, but you’ll definitely feel it very soon,” Mac retorts. “At the very least once you have to buy new pants because your old ones popped at the seams.”

Narrowing his eyes, Jack leans against the counter threateningly. “Are you calling me fat, kid?”

Unafraid, Mac points out, “I think your new wardrobe speaks for itself.”

“Says the noodle with the skinny ass!” Jack snaps back.

They keep it up, glaring at each other, a second or two longer. And then they burst out laughing and Jack reaches out across the counter to ruffle Mac’s hair fondly. Jesus, he loves the kid. And whatever lies ahead, Jack’s exactly where he wants to be, by Mac’s side.

#macgyver #angus macgyver #jack dalton #matty webber #thehemingwaygoldfish #my fics #my macgyver fics

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evdothansen · 7 years

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The Hansens, Part Two – Jared Kleinman x Reader;

Pairing: Jared Kleinman x Hansen!Reader;

Request: Not requested by anyone, but Part One’s right here. Also I probably should say that this is an AU where Evan never invented all that jazz about Connor;

Word Count: 1769;

TW: mention of suicide, probably swearing;

Your senior year was coming to an end. It was funny to think about how you thought your life had already ended when you moved in with the Hansens, but, now, you felt better than ever before. Heidi and Evan really cared about you, and you did about them too. They weren't perfect, of course not, but they were there, and that was all that mattered for you. Throughout the year, you got to spent a lot more time with Evan, who was just the sweetest, and meet other kids from school; like Alana Beck, the girl in you science lab who was a tidsy annoying but overall a great friend; or Zoe murphy, the girl's whose brother had committed suicide and you had comforted – about that, you knew a lot, even though she seemed to be in a different position. For the last months, she also was Evan's girlfriend (you and Jared took all the credits for that, please and thank you), and they were about the cutest thing to ever happen.

And, well, there was Jared too. According to what Evan said, he apparently always was an asshole like that, but there was something else about him. Something rather charming in how he acted tough and was always mocking you and Evan but seemed to be with you most of the time. In school, he didn't show any signs of having any other friends, despite always mentioning his camp friends. Outside, for you lived literally 10 minutes away from him, he seemed to spend all of his free afternoons bothering you and Evan – much to Heidi's delight, might you add. You'd never call him out on it, because you didn't think you needed to – it was as if he was lonely to the point that his wicked humour was his only consolation. Like your brother’s.

No, you didn't need to call Jared out on it. Instead, you were satisfied with only spending time with him.

Well, okay, to be fair, not exactly satisfied.

"You so should ask Jared about prom," Zoe said, pulling you out of your daydream. You hadn't even seen her sitting by your side, but she was sitting right across the table and opening her lunchbox. You looked around sneakily to see if anyone had heard it. Evan was talking to Alana as they made their way to your table and Jared was nowhere to be seen. You sighed. Thank goodness. Zoe saw your agitation. "I'm serious! I mean, he's totally into you."

"No, Zoe, he's not," you told her as calmly as you could. Zoe was pretty much the best girl friend your had, so it was pointless to deny you had a thing for Jared. Or maybe a little more than a thing. "If he had been, he'd have asked me out by now."

"Y/N, it's fucking Kleinman. He doesn't know how to people," she joked, her beautiful smile shining. "Really, for how long has he been flirting with you? First day of school?"

"Well..."

"And don't lie! It is, i've seen it."

“It's only like a joke, Zoe. He's not interested."

"Joke my ass! And he's always at your place!"

"So are you!"

"I'm dating Evan, sweetie," she told you with a triumphant smile. You rolled your eyes.

"It's not like that, Zoe," you told her calmly again.

"How long are you gonna wait until he makes a move?," she asked, and you ignored her. "You're almost graduating, Y/N! God knows where you're going, or where's he's going after that!"

"Zoe, I've told, that's not it!" you lost it. "I’m not waiting for him to make a move, because he obviously isn't going to like ever! Ind it's not because he's stupid, it's because he's not interested!"

"Who's not interested?," a voice you now knew perfectly asked. Shit. You froze as Jared took his usual place by your side. Zoe seemed to be having a hard time on acting normally. Evan and Alana sat by her sides.

"Just this guy Y/N was hoping would invite her to prom," she said, faking casualty.

"Oh, little Y/N is crushing?," Jared smirked at you, nudging your side.

"Shut up, asshole," you said, wishing you were dead.

"Who's prince charming, huh, Hansen?," he insisted, and you could see Evan was now trying not to laugh as well.

"More like the frog," you told him shortly.

"Oh, so he is stupid after all," Zoe remarked. You shot her a shut-the-fuck-up look.

"I mean, of course he is," Jared said, smirking as he opened his lunchbox. "If he isn't interested in hot stuff like you, Hansen, then Murphy might just be right. Can't see how he ain't stupid."

Zoe shot you a look that screamed I-told-you, and you did your best to ignore her and not blush. You didn't know what was happening to you. Jared had always been like that, from day one. It was just a joke, he couldn't be interested in you.

Why were you having butterflies in your stomach, then?

Thankfully enough, Alana shot off in a speech about how prom committee was way harder than she thought but she'd still manage it. You tried to take part in the conversation, but spent most part of that lunch rather quiet. When the five of you parted ways for the next period, you and Alana walked Zoe to her next class and went to science lab together. Meanwhile, Evan and Jared headed outside – Evan had a free period and Jared was supposed to go to computer lab, but he almost always skipped that class and aced the exams either ways. As soon as you and the girls got out of view, Evan stared at Jared with reprehension.

"Oh, Hansen, quit glaring!," Jared said, rolling his eyes. "This seriously isn't the best time, jerk."

"Firstly, you're the jerk here."

"The things living with Y/N has done to sweet baby Evan, Jesus."

"Since you so kindly mentioned her," Evan said, looking at Jared, "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Oh, Evan, fuck off."

"I'm serious, Jared! I mean, you've been pining for her all year long!"

"And look where it got me, having to hear Evan Hansen call me out on my romantic life," Jared ironized.

"At least Evan Hansen got his act together and asked Zoe out," the blond spat. "How much longer are you gonna wait before you make a move? I mean, graduation's right around the corner and –"

"She's not interested, okay?" Jared practically yelled at Evan, interrupting him. "Y/N’s just not interested! You heard her and Zoe at lunch, you should know it! She likes someone, and she's hoping he'll invite her to prom and she thinks he won't but likes him anyway! I don't... I don't stand a chance, Evan."

"Jesus Christ, Jared," Evan said, a little freaked out by his friends’ blurt but trying to sound calm. "Have you ever –"

"And I mean, if Y/N 's after someone and that guy's not interested... He really gotta be stupid, you know?," he interrupted Evan again. He just looked straight off heartbroken now, and Evan regretted his first approach. "'Cause, I mean... you know her. She's wonderful. Look at all she’s done for us. I don't get how anyone could not be in love with her."

Evan subtly put his hand on Jared's shoulder, afraid he'd shrug it off immediately. His friend seemed to be too absorted in his own thoughts to notice the touch, however. Evan swallowed. "Why don't you tell her that?"

"Didn't you hear what I just said, asshole?"

"Jared, are you that stupid? Like, for real?," Evan took a step back and stared at him. Jared didn't react, just kept looking sad. "Jesus Christ. Jared, Y/N likes you. She has like this major crush on you."

“No, she doesn't. Can you please stop?"

"Zoe and her were talking about you!," Evan insisted. "She thinks you’re charming like since day one but you never say anything so she thinks you're not interested!"

"That's such bullshit!," Jared spat. "Anyone with eyes can see I... Can see I'm into her."

"Yeah, well, call her blind then," the blond replied. "Because she likes you, she always has. Why do you think she still calls you over all the time?"

He ran out of arguments. He didn't have anything to say to Evan, but his cousin liking him back... That was impossible. At least, in Jared’s head, it should be. "Leave me alone, Evan."

"Hey. You're the one skipping class to hang out with me," Evan shrugged. "Plus, I'm right. If you still doubt me, go and ask her about it."

After saying that, Evan sat at the bottom of a tree on your school's yard and searched his backpack for his laptop. From the rhythm he was typing, Jared would have been able to tell he was writing a letter to himself about his day, but he wasn't really paying attention to his friend anymore. Jesus, he hated how vulnerable you made him feel. It was probably the only thing he hated about you, but how he did. When it came to Y/N Hansen, his façade just fell apart, every single time.

After a few moments of just staring at the woods, he made a decision. He picked his phone from his pocket, sighing in anticipated regret. He didn't realize Evan was looking at him with a kind smile, but he was. Jared opened up the chat with you, having to convince himself to write each one of the words he did.

To Y/N:

Hey, Y/N

To Y/N:

You have a five minute break before the next period, right?

He didn't think you'd reply so fast, for you were in class, but the moment you'd seen it was Jared you'd started typing underneath your desk.

From Y/N:

Actually, you just got a jackpot

From Y/N:

My counsellor, Mr Washington, couldn't come today, so I have a free period

From Y/N:

Please don't use me as an excuse to skip History though I'm like begging it can wait

He smiled goofily at your text. Little did you know he'd already waited too long.

To Y/N:

Choir Room, after the bell

To Y/N:

And be there, or else I'll have skipped History for nothing

He shoved his phone back into his pocket nervously after hitting send. Even though he was curious when it beeped, he was way too anxious to actually look at the messages. Evan looked back at his computer, trying to cover up the smile on his lips. Had Jared actually paid attention, he would have failed miserably.

#dear evan hansen #deh #dear evan hansen imagine #evan hansen #evan hansen imagine #dear evan hansen x reader #jared kleinman x reader #jared x reader #jared kleinman #evan hansen x reader #zoe murphy #alana beck #my writing

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