How We Hold Hands at a Very Big Table

By: Ridley

A/N: This is just a little day in the life piece, but I hope it brings a smile to your face, and for those celebrating Thanksgiving in the fandom, I hope you are with those you love, even if they aren't present at your table. This one is especially for the service men and women, fire fighters, police officers and first responders and the sacrifice their families make. For those who commented that they had a red letter date circled on a calendar like in my last story, this is for you as well. You will need to have read my stories Fireflies in the Rain and For Family for this story to make much sense. Boxer and Coop belong to the lovely Gib-who writes amazing stories about our boys. Go read them!

RcJ

"Tell me again what Nana's fixing," Jack Dalton said, leaning on his elbows, staring at the computer before him. His ten year old brother's image was on the screen, miraculously transmitted from over eight thousand miles away. He sometimes couldn't help marveling at what soldiers on foreign soil did before technology allowed them such face to face moments with those back home. The sight of the kid still all sleepy-eyed, blond hair sticking up, dressed in his pajamas had a pang of homesickness running through Jack with all the intensity of an enemy's bayonet, but he swallowed the lump of emotion lodged in the back of his throat and managed a grin. "This time I want details, Mac, like how big is the turkey and exactly how much butter did she slather on it before shoving it in the oven. Has it started turning that perfect shade of sun-struck molasses, and does the whole house already smell better than that little bakery on the corner of Delaware and Frost."

"I already walked you through it three times." Mac stifled a yawn, rubbing his eyes with one hand. "Besides, it's only seven in the morning here. We haven't even had breakfast."

"I know that, kid, but it's almost six in the evening here and me and the boys haven't even had our dinner yet so don't blame me for wanting to live vicariously through you considering I'm pretty sure nothing near as good as Nana's cooking is waiting for us over in the mess hall."

"But you'll have a Thanksgiving meal?" Mac looked worried."Right?"

"Of course we're going to eat." Jack felt only a little guilty for eluding to an imaginary meal, considering the fact he and his unit were holed up in a temporary camp out in the middle of a desert and would be eating their typical MRE's. "It won't be on par with honey ham and mashed potatoes but…"

"Speaking of ham," Boxer popped his head over Jack's shoulder, the other soldier crowding in so Mac could see him as well. "That is one strange dog you're holding onto there, baby brother. Wyatt told me you got a new pup while he was home on leave, but he said nothing about it being one of those fancy hairless breeds."

"This is Archimedes, Boxer," Mac explained with a hint of exasperation as he pointed to the black and white bundle of fur curled atop a pile of blankets beside him. He then held up the baby animal in question, the one that had been resting in his lap. "This is Dodger. He's from the family Suidae and genus Linnaeus, which makes him a pig, not a dog." The small speckled piglet grunted in disappointment at being awoken, its twitching nose taking up the camera view for a moment before Mac returned it to the bed, where it immediately began rooting before curling beside the snoring dog. Obviously Mac wasn't the only one still sleepy.

"A pig? This I got to see." Coop nudged his way in on the other side of Jack, his wide shoulders nearly knocking Jack off the stool he was sitting on as he vied for a spot. Jack sighed, appreciating the fact the men in his unit cared enough to pick at Jack's little brother, but wishing they'd show some consideration seeing as how it was a holiday and Jack's time was going to be cut short considering they were wheels up in two friends had already commandeered the computer for brief visits with their respective families. "He's a bit small for a Thanksgiving meal, little dude. I thought Texans took their barbecues seriously, sort of like their hats. Is that a single serving size just for you? Will an apple even fit in his mouth?"

"Come on now, Coop," Boxer joined in again, reaching over Jack to punch the bigger man's shoulder. "Take it from this Texan, that's a perfect specimen of Suidae Linnaeus. He'd make a good mess of bacon for a growing boy. Why I think Ol' Dodger's about the perfect size for a Thanksgiving BLT."

"We're not eating him!" Mac snapped, glaring at his brother's teammates although the fact he was now cuddling the piglet against him like a stuffed toy ruined the attempts to look menacing. "Dodger is a pet pig. He's family."

"Did Nana Beth tell you that?" Boxer nodded, scratching his chin. "Because if I recall right, Wyatt and I were about your age when your sweet grandma told us that the rooster we'd raised up from a chick and named Hootie Poe was a pet, too. She let us go on believing that right up to the day she invited poor Hootie Poe to Sunday dinner via an iron skillet. If I were your friend Dodger I'd be careful not to confuse being family with feeding the family."

"Okay, that's enough, boys," Jack shoved Boxer off to the side, giving the grinning Coop a glower that sent him scurrying as well. The horrified and even more concerned look now gracing Mac's face spoke volumes on how he felt about the teasing. Dodger added a loud squeal to show he also wasn't amused. Jack gave his kid brother his best commiserating frown. "See what I put up with, bud. So much for the Taliban being the biggest pain in my ass over here."

"I think it's a really good thing you're in charge, Jack." Mac nodded thoughtfully. "I'd be worried if Box and Coop were giving the commands seeing as how they can't even tell a pig from a dog."

"Don't I know it." Jack smirked at his fellow teammates as they groaned at the kid's stalwart declaration of confidence in Jack's ability to lead. At twenty-five, and fairly new to Delta, Jack wasn't exactly commissioned to command, but he wasn't about to correct his little brother. He jerked his thumb towards the door. "Seeing as how I am the, boss, how about you not so bright recruits do something useful and go secure us a spot for the Thanksgiving feast while I finish up my private conversation."

Jack quirked a brow when Boxer gave him a slight look of confusion, hoping he understood that Jack would rather have Mac believe they were off to enjoy a hot wholesome holiday meal, however unappetizing the Army might make it, than to worry about the truth of them flying into a fire zone for a hot extraction.

"You got it, Sir." Boxer gave a mock salute, getting in line with the camera once more to give Mac a goofy grin. "Happy Thanksgiving, baby brother. Eat a piece of pumpkin pie for me."

"Sure thing, Box," Mac said, his earlier irritation easily forgotten. He didn't even correct the use of the nickname he typically rallied against. "I'll eat one for you, too, Coop."

"Copy that, kiddo." Coop gave Mac a thumbs up over Jack's shoulder. "You're the man."

"Now that the sideshow has left the building, where were we?" Jack asked once the other two soldiers had gone and he had their makeshift quarters to himself.

"You were asking about Nana Beth's Thanksgiving preparations." Mac put Dodger on the bed, pushing a hand through his hair to shove his bangs out of his eyes. Jack shook his head, thinking how he'd just taken the kid to the barber the last week he was home, but how weeks had already slipped into two months. He'd have to remind Harry to do it again. "For like the third time," Mac added dramatically bringing Jack from his depressing thoughts of missing the day to day routines that shaped his brother's life.

Jack forced a laugh. "I guess two times should have been enough."

"It's okay." Mac's eyes were soft with understanding, and a far bit more longing than Jack wanted to witness. "I wish you were here, too."

"When did you and Harry make it to Austin?" Jack asked quickly, not wanting the time he had with the kid to turn glum. He was glad Harry had accepted the invitation from Jack's grandparents for him and Mac to join them for the holiday. As great as Harry was with Mac, he wasn't exactly big on tradition and Jack figured the more people and activities Mac had around him, the less time the ten year old had to think about those who weren't present-namely his dad and big brother. "More importantly how did Archimedes do on the drive?"

"We got here on Tuesday and Archimedes only threw up three times." Mac put a hand on the dog's head, ruffling the fur behind the pup's ears. "I think that's good for his first trip."

"Knowing Harry and his affinity for that old Jeep, it might be Archimedes last trip, bud." Jack figured it served the old man right for balking at flying and being too cheap to pay for the pup stay at home in a kennel.

"Nah," Mac shook his head. "I can tell Harry likes him, even if he growls and grumbles about the stuff Archimedes leaves strewn all over the floor and how he eats us out of house and home. Sort of like how he complains about you."

Jack's laugh was genuine this time. "I guess that's good for Archimedes seeing as how Harry hasn't sent me packing to the pound in all these years. Where is the old coot?"

"He and JP were getting up early to go fishing at the lake." Mac leaned in a little closer to the computer as if their Nana might be able to hear from the kitchen where Jack imagined her working her culinary magic, as a Johnny Cash album played in the background. "JP said it was because he needed something to look forward to seeing as how The Cowboys are hosting Miami today, but I think they were afraid Nana Beth would ask them to do something to help. I heard JP say they needed to make themselves scarce and Harry agreed saying he'd peeled enough darn potatoes-only he didn't say darn-in the Navy to last him a lifetime."

"That sounds about right." Jack's grandfather was always anxious to escape being underfoot on a day when his wife was in full-on mega-meal mode. "Why didn't you head out with them, bud? You could have shown them up with that new reel you built."

"I had to stay and help Nana with the tree." Mac's eyes flashed with excitement. "We got all the limbs from the woods on our walk yesterday."

"Ah, the tree." Jack nodded, his heart squeezing a bit at the mention of the long-held Dalton tradition. All year long each Dalton family kept a jar of 'gratitude'. Colorful slips of paper with things they were thankful for throughout the year written on them and tucked away inside so that on Thanksgiving when they came together to share the traditional meal they could add their own 'leaves' to the tree in the center of the table, telling about the moments they'd been most blessed. Jack remembered being a boy and thinking everyone had a Grateful Tree, much like a Christmas tree only with bare branches and no ornaments.

"I made hooks out of paper clips and wanted to put lights on it this year using a battery-pack system I made, but Nana Beth said that nothing could outshine the act of simply showing our appreciation for all that God had given us throughout the year." Mac gave a resigned sigh at their grandmother's knack for imparting words of wisdom. "She said there was a point to the simplicity, something about us being stark and our lives sparse, but I'm not sure I get the symbolism."

"Don't feel bad, little brother. I once asked Nana why we couldn't have presents underneath the Gratitude Tree and she promptly told me that the gifts had already been given to us all year long, the greatest one on Good Friday, and that they were the very things we were supposed to be giving thanks for to The Almighty. She might have added a swat to my backside and chastened me not to be so greedy before sending me out to clean the horse stables to heed some humility."

"Really? She said I was very creative and kissed me on the head." Mac tried to hide his grin but failed miserably. "I also got a hug and a cookie."

"Well of course you did." Jack smirked, rolling his eyes at his grandmother's tendency to think Mac was damn near perfect. Of course Jack was pretty much of the same mind, but he wasn't about to admit it now with the boy gloating like he was King Midas and everything he touched turned to gold. The kid was already far too aware of the power he wielded over his big brother. "Nana Beth wasn't quite as appreciative of my expanding on traditions."

"I admire your attempt to get some gifts out of the situation," Mac replied, his effort at brotherly solidarity ruined when his smile went full wattage. "Especially seeing as how Nana told me you pretty much stayed on Santa's naughty list and got coal in your stocking every year until I was born. She said I brought out the best in you."

"Shining bundle of joy or not, I gotta say you're not exactly earning yourself any points with this Jolly Old St. Jack right now." Jack quirked a brow, knowing his little brother had long since given up on the illusion of an overgrown elf with eight tiny reindeer. Losing your mother at the tender age of five tended to put a damper on things like magical wishes but Jack imagined Mac went along with the reuse for everyone else's sake. "You forget the countdown to Christmas is underway and now that I'm officially in charge of you I have to send my endorsement into the guy in red pretty early if I want it to get to the North Pole from way out here in the desert."

"I only want one thing." Mac's face had grown serious once more and Jack mentally kicked himself for inadvertently opening the door to what he understood was bound to be a request he couldn't guarantee. He prayed Mac didn't ask Jack to find his father. "I want you to come home to stay."

"Now bud…"

"You'll at least be here for Christmas, right? Me, you and Harry will come back to the ranch like we always do?"

Jack winced, wondering at how he could have dodged the James MacGyver bullet only to be hit with another of his own. There was nothing he wanted more than to promise his brother he'd made headway in securing an assignment that would keep him closer to home and out of the damn desert, but as it was Jack couldn't even be sure he'd manage a trip home before Christmas. "Well now that's the plan, but…"

"Then it will be the best Christmas ever," Mac concluded before the Delta operator could offer a counter. Jack needed to explain that although he'd requested leave he couldn't guarantee it would go through especially in light of a renewed rebellion in Helmand they'd heard rumblings about, but Mac had slid from the bed, disappearing from the camera's view. Archimedes abruptly sat up, looking just as perplexed by his boy's sudden disappearance as Jack. Mac reappeared as quickly as he'd gone, climbing around the pup and snorting piglet to hold up a big Mason jar with a painted sunset and ocean scene. "Is there anything else you want to add to our jar before I put our slips on the tree?"

Jack swallowed hard at the site of the glass container, the one Beth had given Jack's mother when she married James MacGyver. It was in fact the very same jar she'd once gifted to her daughter-in-law years before when she'd married Jack's father, only Beth had painted a new scene on the clear glass, explaining that the joys of the past could only be added to by the possibilities of a beautiful future. Jack and Mac's mom, Emma, had loved the jar, doing just as Nana Beth had predicted, counting blessing upon blessing right up until the point she got sick.

"How about you read a few we've already gotten in there since I won't be around the table to hear them all." Jack fought hard to keep his voice light, focusing on the great care Mac showed in opening the lid and looking inside.

The ten year old had to push Archimedes' nose out of the way to pull one of the pieces of paper out, holding it up for Jack to see. It was yellow, looking like it might have been torn from the pages of a phone book. "Jack home safe," Mac read, showing Jack the slip when he was done. Harry's chicken scratch was barely legible. "Grandpa must have put it in this summer."

Jack hadn't thought the old guy put much stock in the gratitude jar, knowing him to add a few hurried slips before heading to Texas in previous years when he was afraid Beth would call him on it if he had nothing to offer when mealtime came. Jack covered the sudden rush of emotion that the simple thought brought with an attempt at humor. "Are you sure that doesn't say Jack gone again, bud? Harry's handwriting is harder to read than a doctor's prescription pad."

"Harry misses you almost as much as me, Jack." Mac gave his brother a reprimanding glance before folding the paper and placing it back in the jar before Dodger could snatch it out of his hand. Jack was grateful when the kid withdrew another, apparently not expecting a response to his assurance concerning Harry's affections because Jack didn't trust his resolve to remain impassive and upbeat. "This one says 'Bozer'." Mac looked from the paper to Jack, a genuinely confused frown on his face. "I never thought to put one in for him and this isn't Harry's writing. It looks like yours."

"Don't look so surprised." Jack rolled his eyes at the boy's wide-eyed accusing gaze. Bozer could be annoying as hell, but he'd brought some happiness to Mac and for that Jack would be forever grateful. Kids could be cruel, especially to anyone they considered different. Mac was never, nor would he ever be, status quo. He was made to stand out but that wasn't always a good thing when it came to one's peers. Bozer had a knack for seeing Mac's off the chart intelligence and even his unusual quirks for the special facets they were, never using them as fodder for teasing or something worse. "I must have jotted that down in a moment of weakness, probably on that day he had laryngitis or maybe when he'd brought over some of his sweet housekeeper's tamales."

"I knew you liked him." Mac waved the little piece of paper like a flag. "This is proof."

"I like how he treats you," Jack said, sincerely. Thanks to Bozer, Mac had one thing he desperately needed now more than ever, and had never truly known since starting school-a best friend. "I'm grateful someone has your back when I'm not around to watch out for you."

Mac seemed to be struggling with his own bit of emotions because he merely gave Jack a sheepish grin before putting the paper back and grabbing another. "This one's mine."

"Let me guess, it says girls who smell like strawberries," Jack piped up, keeping up the levity they both were working extra hard to foster. Admittedly, it had been harder to manage this last deployment and each time Jack was allowed a time to talk to his brother, he felt drained and worse about the circumstances he'd left behind. Leaving his brother in September was harder than previous times in part Jack knew because of James MacGyver's disappearing act, but also because Jack himself felt beholden to stay and take care of Mac in a way he hadn't experienced before. Jack believed in everything he was doing in Delta, but he also was caught in an undeniable trajectory that left him feeling lax in his duty to his brother had him wanting to be home more than ever before. "No, maybe it just has 'Penny Parker' written on it with little hearts drawn all around."

Mac's gaze narrowed, the watery brightness lighting his blue eyes from before now hardening to a glinting frost. "I knew I should have never told you that. For your information, it says June, July, and August."

Jack lifted a brow. "That from a kid who loves school and considers summer break a punishment?"

"This year was different because you were home."

"I'm mighty touched, little brother." Jack winked at Mac before the kid could further twist the knife he'd unknowingly thrust into Jack's heart. The hurt, almost forlorn look on the ten year old's face was bad enough. "But just so you know there would have been nothing wrong with you being grateful for a girl or for all the finer female attributes. Why the year I turned sixteen I had a great appreciation for many girls and some specific body parts had definitely made me thankful. Mom knew me well enough to make a sweep of the slips before going to Austin that year. She made me burn the ones Nana Beth would not have considered as humorous as I found them."

"Does that mean there's one in here now with Sarah's name on it?" Mac asked, digging through the papers once more. "Or Riley's mom?"

"I can promise you Diane Davis isn't in there, kid." Jack had learned quickly that Mama Colton's cousin was out of his league for several reasons, her crazy husband who tried to kill him, being first on the list. She'd blown back into Mission City to claim her daughter at the end of summer, much to Bozer's disappointment, but Jack had not made an effort to meet to accept the apology she had related through her family that she wanted to give. He gave his brother a pointed glance. "If you find Sarah's it's only because of how she helped us out this summer."

"Whatever you say, Jack." Mac rolled his eyes as if he didn't believe one word of what the twenty-five year old was saying. Jack leaned his elbows on the desk when the little boy's face suddenly became crestfallen after reading the latest slip he'd withdrawn. He continued to watch the kid with some concern as Mac's eyes filled.

"You know what, bud," Jack cleared his throat, hoping to keep the train from derailing. "Now that you mention it, I probably should have put a couple in there for Sarah and that friend of hers, Matilda Weber. I don't know how she greased the wheels of justice as quick as she did, but of all the things that happened this year, I sure am most grateful for us staying together."

"But we're not together," Mac pointed out, finally looking up from the paper. He blinked, a lone tear clinging to one of his long lashes. Jack felt that knife in his chest slide in a little deeper. "We haven't been together since you left in September."

"Hey now, what did I promise you that day at the airport?" Jack could still recall the way Mac had clung to him, the silent crying that had shaken his slight frame as Jack hugged him tight. When Jack's plane had been called Harry practically had to peel the boy from him like a sticky legged tree frog. "Nothing, not oceans, or continents, not even a war can separate us. Right?"

"Nana says that love doesn't pay no mind to distance." Mac looked once more to the paper he was still holding then back at Jack, wiping the back of his hand over his eyes.

"I've always said she's the smartest person I know," Jack replied, worriedly. It wasn't like his brother to be overly emotional, but he couldn't help feeling that since James MacGyver had disappeared, he was in brand new territory with the ten year old. He wished, not for the first time, that he could reach through the screen and hug the kid.

"She told me that when we are at the graveyard visiting your dad yesterday."

"Nana Beth took you to see my old man?" Jack's grandmother had taken him to his father's grave often before he moved to California. Jack hadn't been since he'd gone to tell his dad about joining the Army three years before, but he found an odd comfort in the fact his Nana still kept up the trips and that she'd included Jack's kid brother.

"I wish I could have met him for real but Nana said I could still talk to him." Mac bit his lip, looking hesitant, as if he was unsure he should have said anything. "I told him that you were a real hero, just like him."

"I appreciate that, kiddo." Jack quickly wiped a hand over his face to keep his own eyes from spilling over. He promised himself he wouldn't let their conversation turn to anything sad, not willing to ruin the kid's holiday like the damper he was sure he'd inadvertently put on Halloween. "My dad would have been crazy about you, you know."

"That's what Nana Beth said, too." Mac's brow furrowed as he studied the slip in his hand once more.

"So." Jack gestured to the piece of legal pad in question. "Are you going to tell me what's on that paper or am I going to have to guess?"

Mac hesitated again, his eyes once more growing bright before he finally turned the slip around and held it up to the camera so Jack could see for himself. James MacGyver's penmanship was as precise and flowing as ever. The names Emma and Angus were clearly written with great care.

"Daddy puts our names in every year. Lots of times." Mac ran his finger over the writing. Archimedes whined, bumping the little boy's shoulder with his head as if he could sense the overwhelming sadness that Jack imagined had somehow leeched through the computer screen to infect his heart as well. The old familiar ache that thoughts of their mom always brought had him finding it hard to get his tight chest to manage a breath, let alone allow him to speak the words that might help his brother. Mac's tormented blue eyes sought him out once more. "Do you think maybe he left because he missed her too much to stay?"

"I think we all miss her like crazy, bud." Jack hadn't meant for his tone to be so harsh, but the thought of James still managing to hurt his son even from wherever the hell he currently was had Jack's blood boiling. He made and extreme effort to soften the scowl he knew was probably twisting his features. There was no way he wanted Mac to think he was angry with him. "And you and I will just have to pick up the slack in remembering how lucky we were to have her while your dad's gone away."

"That will be easy because I think about her every day." Mac let out a heavy breath, running his hands over Archimedes when the pup climbed on his lap to vie with Dodger for the little boy's attention.

"I know you do."

"Will missing her and my dad every go away?"

Jack waited for Mac to meet his gaze once again before answering. "I think the better question, kiddo, is do you really want it to?"

"Maybe, just the sad part, though."

Jack understood that sentiment all too well. "I think that the more we're grateful for the time we had them, the less time we maybe have to be sad about losing them."

Mac almost smiled. "That sounds like something Nana Beth would say."

"Hey, I get my smarts honestly." Jack folded his arms, his brows furrowing. "I may not be a genius like my kid brother, but they don't just give anyone command of the troops to any old fool that can fly a plane and pull a trigger, especially at the ripe old age of twenty-five."

Boxer chose that moment to stick his head around the flap of the tent. "Yo, Tombstone, uh the turkey's getting cold and The Hammer says he's about to have your damn yams on a silver platter if you don't move your ass…Sorry, Mac, I meant darn yams and Jack's butt, not the other word that rhymes with bass."

"Copy that," Jack rolled his eyes at his teammate's lame attempt at censorship. "Tell Hammond I prefer my darn yams just where they are thank you very much. I'll be there in five."

"I didn't think you liked yams," Mac spoke up, reclaiming Jack's attention.

"The yams the Captain are referring to, I'm actually kind of partial to, bud. So, I'm going to have to head out." Jack forced another grin for his brother, although his stomach dropped at the idea of having to let him go. It seemed he was always wanting just five more minutes. Time had become as real an enemy as the insurgent forces and terrorists. "Any last big brother wisdom I can impart before I head for the chow wagon?"

"Just one more thing." Mac scooped up Dodger from the bed, the piglet squirming until it nestled under Mac's chin with a few soft contented grunts. "Will Nana Beth really roast Dodger over a spit one day?"

Jack grinned. "Nah, but she might fire you up if she finds out you let that filthy animal sleep in your bed last night."

"Pigs aren't filthy. They only roll in the mud to keep cool because they don't sweat. They're very social, too and get lonely by themselves." Mac looked down at the piglet. "Besides, Nana knows he's in here and she's fine with it."

"How'd you manage that?" Jack wasn't surprised his grandmother was aware of the sleepover. After all he was pretty certain he hadn't been wily enough at Mac's age to pull off the feat of keeping a baby raccoon in his room the entire summer after his father died without Beth being none the wiser. Still, she'd feigned ignorance and let Jack keep his temporary roommate right up until the time when the little ring-tailed thief started messing in her kitchen. Even his grandmother's indulgence held a limit although he was beginning to think Mac might get away with waltzing his horse in to have its oats right at the table.

"I told her I was worried that Dodger was just a baby and missed his mom and his brothers a whole lot. She said I should keep him company." Mac met Jack's gaze once more, and Jack's heart ached at the irony in that observation. "Did you know mother pigs sing to their piglets?"

Jack's throat tightened. "I didn't know that."

"Pigs have lots of different vocalizations, like dolphins," Mac added.

"What kind of song do you think they sing?" Jack watched his brother, trying to remember if he'd ever told him that their mom used to sing him to when he was a baby and that Jack would often fall asleep listening from his bedroom next to Mac's nursery. Music wasn't her best talent, but Jack would have given just about anything to hear her off key voice again. He wanted it even more for Mac, who was really still just a baby himself and facing not only yet another family holiday without her, but his first without his dad and Jack. It was clear that Dodger wasn't the only one missing their family.

"Maybe something that sounds like home." Mac smiled at him at then, and it was almost as if Jack had gotten his wish in recapturing a tiny piece of their mom.

As if on cue Beth's voice rang out through the house, calling for Mac, only she hollered for 'Angus'. A sharp whistle followed and Archimedes perked up, giving a loud bark, signaling he was more than ready to be summoned to breakfast. Dodger squealed excitedly getting in on the action.

Jack cleared his throat. "Speaking of beautiful music… It sounds like you have to go too, kiddo."

"Probably." Mac covered Dodger's head with his hands, lowering his voice. "I smell B-A-C-O-N."

"Then I better definitely let you get moving before all the ranch hands come swarming." He gave a glance over his shoulder and then back to Mac, resting on his elbows once more. "I hope you know how much I wish I was there with you bud, not just for turkey, but every day, all the time. If I could give you that…"

"It's okay, Jack. You'll be here today just like your dad, and our mom." Before Jack could question his brother's confident statement, the ten year old rushed on to explain. "When we were at the graveyard Nana told the first Jack that she'd be expecting him for dinner today. I was a little confused because although I understand talking to people who are dead, I wasn't sure you should actually issue them an invitation to dinner and expect them to show up."

Jack couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him. "You should know by now that Nana Beth isn't exactly one to let a little thing like death keep her from bossing around the men in her life."

"Yeah," Mac's mouth twitched, a much missed hint of a dimple showing. "But I still told her that even without having specific distance parameters I could assure her it would take one really big table to reach all the way to Heaven."

Jack wished he'd been a bird on a limb for that conversation. "And what did Nana have to say about that scientific postulation?"

"She explained that she wasn't actually expecting your dad to be present when we sat down to say grace, but that sometimes holding people in our hearts was almost as real as holding their hand. So today, I'll be holding onto you extra tight in my heart."

The earnestness in Mac's blue gaze had Jack swallowing a few times before he felt safe to speak. "Then I guess I'll be joining you for dinner after all, little brother."

Mac seemed to realize the effort Jack was making to keep it together, because he worked really hard at returning his older brother's tremulous grin. "It's too bad meditating on Nana's biscuits and pumpkin pie won't actually fill your stomach because then you could just skip the mess hall altogether."

"Rub it in why don't you." Jack snorted, thinking maybe Mac's dry sense of humor was definitely something he needed to write on a slip of paper and add to the grateful jar because at the moment it was the only thing keeping him from completely ruining his tough guy image by blubbering like a baby.

"Sorry," Mac replied, not so sincerely.

"Sure you are," Jack said, just as Nana Beth called again, sending Archimedes into another whining fit for his boy to get a move on. Jack lifted his closed hand to the computer screen. "Now bring it in for a fist bump before you lose your B-A-C-O-N and The Hammer has my yams on his plate."

Mac made a good show of rolling his eyes but shifted Dodger to one arm so he could raise his knuckles towards the camera. "I told you we could just say 'fist bump'."

"But where's the fun in that? You might as well just right me a letter like they did back Harry's days if you aren't going to take full advantage of the technology offered to us." Jack lowered his hand, winking at the kid. "Make sure you give Nana a hug for me, and cheer really loudly for those Cowboys, no matter how bad their losing. It's another Dalton Thanksgiving tradition you know."

"I know, Jack. I brought your Troy Aikman jersey from home to wear and grabbed a couple of cowbells from the barn." Mac assured, sliding off the bed. "I told Nana Beth she should dig up a shirt for Harry, too."

"That's my boy," Jack laughed, thinking of the old man's reaction to being a part of the fan mania that his family could manage. He reached for the key on the computer that would cut their connection, sobering as the dark possibility that he might not see the kid again invaded his thoughts. Just as quickly as he'd entertained the morose notion he shoved it away to the recesses of his mind with all the other worst case scenarios, managing one more grin for the road. "Love ya, bud."

"I love you, too, big guy." Mac leaned his face close to the camera. "See you at Christmas."

Jack ended the connection, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to regain his composure. He opened them when he heard the familiar rumble of an Apache, the dulcet tones of Hammond yelling for the men to hall ass and get a damn move on. It sure as hell wasn't the sounds of home, but Jack took heart. Grabbing his gear and his rifle, he headed out into the desert night, having no doubt that at a table eight thousand miles away his brother was holding him tight.

The end…for now