In a dark night, in a foreign country with only his instincts, it's how he used to enjoy life, but then those Phoenix kids had to ruin it with their friendships and memories. Jack continued to drive the long dirt rode along in his supply truck, trying to go over his cover story as any agent should before the drop, and yet he couldn't focus. The wipers pushed heavy drops of rain off his windshield while the headlights blurred in the storm. Ecuador looked like any other country in the rain; it could've been Texas if he thought hard enough.
Jack doubled checked the time and he was still on schedule—a chuckle escaped him when he suddenly pictured Mac by his side, the master of improve. For a moment, he was about to lean over and explain his plan to the kid when his eyes wandered over to the passenger seat and saw nothing but his falsified ledger of the supplies in the back of his truck. The smile once there melted into a stern line. Stupid CIA. Stupid Mac quitting without warning him first, his own partner. Stupid Matty for letting him take the job so far from home. Jack sighed and leaned back into his seat, pushing out the loneliness.
Once Mac left Phoenix, there was an emptiness to the team. Matty assured them the space would be filled soon, but she made sure to speak with Jack directly…
"So, Jack, how are you holding up?" She said.
"Fine," Jack avoided her sharp gaze. Silence. "I don't know what you're referring to."
"Come on, Jack, let's be adults about this. Mac is gone and let's try to picture a future where you're here without him."
"You think I'm going to leave this team just because Mac isn't here. You think I'm going to leave Riley again?" Jack was almost insulted, but part of himself knew he was lying. Matty knew that too.
"I'm not saying it would happen right away, but we all know you two. I'm not blaming you or Mac…after everything you two have been through together I'd say most people would develop a tendency…but what I am saying, is that I think it's going to happen eventually and I'd rather get ahead of it then have it bite us in the butts later." Matty took Jack's silent as acceptance. "Don't you think this would be better if we talk about it now rather than having you run out because you heard Mac is on the other side of the world doing something that you need to go protect him from?"
"Uh, I think Mac would give me a heads up if he was going to the other side of the world." He scoffed, but immediately cleared his throat once he saw Matty was unamused.
"I'm not saying that I saw this coming, but I always had something tucked away for a rainy day."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean: the CIA has always been interested in rehiring you."
"And how would that be any better?"
"Because you won't be breaking this team's heart when you inevitable leave us for Mac."
"Damn, Matty the Hun," had Jack not been so somber saying those words, she would've reacted differently. "You sure do tell it how it is…"
"With you Jack, there's no other way to get through that thick skull of yours." She gave him an endearing smile.
"How will I break it to Riley?" The fear ran over his face so suddenly.
"Riley's grown a lot, I think she'll understand."
The lights come up in the other lane as Jack crossed the bridge; they shook him from his thoughts as they rushed up, blinding him in the rain. Jack hugged his guard rail as much as possible, but at the last second the other vehicle swerved and crashed into his side. He felt his body float as his truck was driven off the bridge, front first into the stream twenty feet below. Everything had become silent as the rain around him froze and then it all shattered on impact: the water was only a few feet deep, even in with the rain, this caused the front of the truck to crunch into the rocks, the glass shattered and the shards cut into his skin, his body was throw about like a dolls, and then the truck finally collapsed onto its side, letting the water from the stream rush into the cabin, lapping against Jack's numb body.
Nothing but him and his instincts. Jack struggled to collect himself, to push out any thought of pain that fought to well up inside. His fingers found his pistol on their own, gripping it with bloody, white knuckles as he fumbled with his seat belt. Jack had to kick out the remaining glass of the windshield and he rolled out into the water. The headlights continued to glow, and he watched the blood run off his body and disappear in the water, visible briefly in the gold light until it disappeared into the darkness downstream. Jack was on his knees, unable to determine what was broken, what was bleeding, what was bruised—when voices up on the bridge reached him in the rain. He threw himself to his feet; immediately feeling his right leg buckle, Jack collapsed back into the cool waters, though prevented himself from struggling to avoid making himself known to those above.
Jack eventually and silently struggled his way to the bank of the stream and disappeared into jungle brush, however, he stayed close enough where he could witness his assailants wade through the stream up to the cabin of the totaled truck. Large rifles poked through the broken windows, searching for a body. As Jack watched, his heart beat slowing, he backed away deeper into the jungle, never removing his eyes from the three men who now rushed back up to the bridge. He allowed his eyes time to adjust to the darkness, on the nearby road he heard cars come to life, lights began to shine into the thick of the vegetation.
He moved as swiftly as his broken body could allow: weaving under vines, vaulting over fallen trees, freeing himself from bramble. The rain died down on the canopy as he went, the smells of wet bark filling the air. It took time before the search lights disappeared and in the distance the lights of the city of Quito broke through the wall of trees. Here, Jack sat against a tree before the edge of the jungle. The moon moved out from behind a soggy rain cloud and a soft light fell on him. Jack sat there and began to smell his own blood. He went to feel for wounds when the light hit his left hand, purple and swollen from a broken wrist and forearm. Looking at it brought the pain to his attention, and now movement felt like glass grinding under his skin. Each pulse from his heartbeat throbbed throw the arm like a hammer coming down. Jack's other hand was fine, some cuts and bruises, but it could hold his pistol and shoot if he needed to. He moved down his body until he reached his right knee, where a jarring piece of metal stuck out right below the joint.
"Well, god damn…" He almost laughed, taking out his burner phone to dial one number he had since recalled to memory. Mac's voice echoed in his ear, his voicemail. Jack laughed again as the message beeped; he considered saying something, maybe how cold Ecuador was after it rained at night, maybe how much he forgot a broken arm hurt, maybe how much he missed having another person beside him to share the loneliness. "Hey Mac, just checking in on you…hoping you're doing okay after you quitting and all, making sure you job hunting, can't afford not to in this economy." He tried to mask the pain and effort in his voice. "I know we haven't really talked since, and I'm not mad at you or anything. Wish you would've given me a heads up and all, but I'm kind of used to your spontaneity by now." He watched as the lights before him flickered behind the moving trees across the clearing. "Say hello to Bozer and Riley for me if you see them. Uh, wait never mind. I'll just see them at work tomorrow, duh." Jack heard the message end as he ran out of time. "I miss yeah buddy…I miss your wacky ideas…I miss an extra pair of hands to help patch me up…" He closed the phone after checking the little battery life remaining. "Suppose I should've called for an evac…I'll do that in a minute." He allowed himself a moment to breath, but it snuck up on him. At first, he thought it was just the blackness of the night, however, unconsciousness quickly crept in and took over.
Mac walked through the home once he heard Boze come home. There was a soft smile on his face after having woken up for the first time that day; without a current job, he could spend all night tinkering in peace and still sleep enough into the day. Boze picked up on the restfulness bounce in his step and gave his friend an envious stare.
"Good morning, beautiful." He put his work bags down and walked into the kitchen and Mac leaned against the bar counter.
"How was work?" Mac asked, realizing a message he had on his phone.
"Fine," Bozer looked him over. "How's the job hunt?"
"Oh, you know…" Mac grinned and held his phone up to listen to a message Jack left him last night. "How's Jack doing?"
"What do you mean?" Bozer closed the fridge and looked at him. Mac read his friend's face and then heard Jack ranting on the phone, his breathing becoming labored and his words slurring together in weakness, and then it stopped suddenly. "Jack's not working at Phoenix anymore." Part of Mac wanted to joke that 'that didn't take long,' but Boze continued to seem concerned. "He was contracted back into the CIA, Matty kind of insisted on it."
"Why am I just hearing about this?"
"I mean, you just left out of nowhere too Mac. I guess I thought he'd tell you himself."
"Well, he didn't." Mac looked down at his phone.
"Everything okay?"
"Yeah, he called me last night. I'm sure it's fine." Mac felt a knot forming in his stomach. "Uh, how's Matty doing with…me…?"
"It's Matty, you know she's gonna be mature about it. You sure you're okay?" Bozer watched Mac tense.
"Yeah," it sounded more like a question as he redialed Jack's number.
The phone vibrated against his stomach, stirring him awake, and then the headache took over from there. Jack grunted as pain thrashed against him from every inch of his body, his joints were stiffened, and his muscles burned. He accidentally reached for the phone with his busted arm and quickly cringed, seething as his arm trembled with surges of pain.
"Hello?" With his right arm, he pressed it up to his ear, his voice dry and uneven with stress as the night rushed back to him.
"Jack!" Mac's voice hit his ears. "Hey,"
"Hey, Mac," Jack naturally went to a casual tone, though shifting his body elicited a sharp yelp.
"You okay?" Mac asked quickly. Jack's mind became a momentary blur of pain, preventing him from responding. "Jack,"
"Yeah," he stopped and now tried only to hold back further cries.
"Where are you now?" Mac's voice slowed as he recognized his friend's state. A curse sometimes, they'd never be able to hide an injury from one another, could never lie about pain because it'd always be there in their voice.
"Ecuador, outside of Quito," Jack breathed heavily, a sharp stabbing in his side cutting him off.
"How bad is it?" The concern coming through the phone made Jack grin.
"Run off a bridge last night…still in the jungle, probably should've called someone…other than you." He laughed.
"Jack, I'm going to call Matty,"
"She's not my handler," Jack seethed, suddenly seeing the shrapnel in his leg under fresh light. An infection was starting, the piece of metal jutting out at a sharp angle, red blood still leaking out slowly.
"Doesn't matter, I'm going to call her anyway, she can get someone down to you." Jack suddenly heard Bozer in the background asking Mac what was wrong. "It's Jack," he said.
"Someone made me, Mac." Jack grew tense as he heard footsteps approaching him in the jungle. He tried to wedge the phone against his ear while preparing his gun for enemies.
"Jack is there any way you can figure out where you are exactly, so I can send you an evac?" Jack didn't respond to him as a man with a heavy rifle in full combat armor stepped out into his small clearing. Jack had his pistol aimed, arm shaking but steady enough that he could get the shot in, but this knocked the phone into the grass.
"Back away, man." He said to the stranger, though he seemed unphased. Mac listened in as he suspected what was happening on the other end.
"Call Matty," Jack heard Mac instruct Bozer.
Another armed man came out of the thicket behind Jack and quickly slammed the butt of his rifle into his skull; he fell forward into the grass, his pistol leaving his hand, and his broken arm screaming under the weight of his body. The man who hit him grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him upright like an animal, pressing a knife to Jack's throat. Mac knew better than to call out and give away the fact that Jack was in contact with someone, so he simply listened. The two men spoke to him in Spanish and Jack, who understood, simply chuckled at their orders. These men quickly picked up on his injuries and started to prod at his arm; this would cause Jack to holler, and then fall back into a cocky laugh as he would rather die than divulge information.
"Don't bother," he said, voice raspy with the taste of blood forming in the back of his mouth. Jack suddenly lunged forward, grabbing at the rifle before him and slipping his right arm over and onto the trigger, aiming it at the man behind him. Jack shot him down and immediately rolled with the weapon, pulling the other enemy with him; they fell into a chaotic scuffle as Jack struggled to suppress his broken bones and overpower the man. The enemy tried to attack the wounds he could see, but lost focus and didn't see Jack steal the knife off his belt which was quickly dug into his temple. He rolled the corpse off him, falling onto his side, gasping through each breath felt like he was breathing in glass.
"Jack!" Matty's voice was shrill in the silence, muffled by the grass. Jack was splayed out in the grass, only his left arm gently crossed over his stomach. "Jack, pick up the phone." Matty was maintaining a calm tone with him. He raised his hand to wipe sweat off his brow when he felt the familiar sting of a bullet wound in his right side—he didn't remember being shot. "Jack, this is an order, pick up the phone now." He laughed pathetically before rolling over and crawling to the phone.
"Matty, I didn't think I worked for you any more…I thought you made sure of that." He couldn't hold it, but rather dragged it next to his face in the grass.
"Bozer called me, Riley patched me into your call with Mac…" Matty's voice suddenly became soft. "What happened Jack?" He simply laughed, again.
"Picture every shitty night I've ever had wrapped up into one." He gasped, tasting more blood on his tongue.
"Did you call anyone, Jack?"
"Just Mac,"
"Well, I'm trying to get in touch with your handler now. They're not responding."
"He seemed like an asshole." Jack pushed against the blackness crowding his vision again.
"Where are you Jack? We're on our way to Ecuador."
"That's a long trip." Jack mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut as if he could squeeze out the dizziness and blurred vision with it.
"I want you to keep talking to me…what's wrong?"
"Wrong, wrong Matty? My arm's busted, my leg's been stabbed, I think I have a concussion, and I was shot…I think." Jack could feel himself draining out of him. "I just killed two armed dudes in the jungle, and my stash I was supposed to deliver last night has probably been dragged out of the water by whoever these two work for." He had to stop and catch his breath, which erupted into a fit of coughs ending in blood trickling out the corner of his mouth.
"Jack," it sounded as if she were about to cry. "We're on our way to Quito. Riley is trying to get in touch with our agents down there. You're going to be okay." She did that thing where she promises things as if she had control over them.
"And what if I'm not." Jack's voice dropped, the pain and hunger and thirst and exhaustion took over.
"Hey Jack," the phone was swiped from Matty, as if Mac coming into the conversation would change reality. "How are you holding up?" Now, Mac spoke with an upbeat hum: his approach being if you looked at something positively the outcome would be positive. "Jack?" Jack forget he hadn't responded. "I need you to say something." He wasn't sure what to say. Whenever Mac was beside him he could force out a joke, smile to make the kid feel better, but when he was still six hours away Jack found little strength left to lie.
"My phone's about to die." He croaked.
"Jack, you're going to have to conserve the battery. When we get to Quito we'll need it to find you."
"I'll do my best, but I can't craft a new one from lightning like you."
"You won't have to, I promise, just treat your wounds, stay where you are…"
"Thanks Mom, but I've been in this situation before."
"Have you?"
"Well, maybe not to this extent, but the general tone."
"Six hours, Jack."
"Yeah." He ended the call and collapsed back into the ground, the sun starting to bleed through the trees onto him, the phone warm in his hand. "Not quite how I pictured this going." In his dirtied, bloody, sweat covered tee and cargo pants, he felt himself grow warm. Luckily, the canopy continued to shade him, but he recognized the fever spreading. Jack had grown accustomed to his state of pain and his training could now kick in; he crawled over to the bodies and began to loot. He discarded his pistol for one of the rifles, took one of their radios, and recovered the knife from that one man's skull. Using the soiled blade, he started to cut up the clean shirts for bandages. One he used his teeth and working hand to fasten into a sling, failing multiple times to properly tie a knot that could hold his arm. "Shit," putting his busted arm into the sling was another process. He needed to go back to the river and his truck.
Jack turned on the rifle's safety and then used it as a crutch to swing himself up to his feet, a wave of nausea rising with him. The ground spun at his feet, the sounds of the animals in the trees attacked his ears and irritated his concussion further, yet he remained standing. Everything mellowed and when it did he heard the commands coming over the dead men's radios. It took him time to translate, but it essentially asked for their position and the whereabouts of their prisoner. He lowered the volume and then began to backtrack trough the jungle to the stream and bridge, a strange move, but he figured any search teams would've completely swept the truck and moved on by now. Halfway back, his body began to tremble, each step he fought against his knees buckling. Jack grunted and tried to press against his bullet wound with his busted fingers, he hardly felt the warmth of his blood against the numbing digits. When he reached the stream, the water gushing from the night's rain, he saw the truck on its side where he left it last night. He rested on the threshold of the jungle and scanned the area for anyone; it seemed the bridge he traveled on last night was more of a backroad and even the officials weren't aware of the destroyed vehicle off the road.
He carefully slid down the muddy bank and wadded into the water now two feet deep. Jack lifted the rifle onto his back and focused to not slip on the wet rocks; he made his way around to the back end of the canvas covered truck. It had been raided. Jack went inside, the echo of the water almost relaxed him, and he went to the back of the bed where a couple of boxes remained. He sat heavily down in the water, back against the metal skeleton of the bed's canvas cover. He then opened the remaining boxes; the cover for his transport was food delivery and the few crates of interest held uniquely marked bills to track throughout a drug trade—those were missing. He found what he was hoping to find, coarse salt packets next to other condiments. Jack then eyed up the metal in his leg; he grasped it and immediately felt his leg scream and throb. In one swift motion, he yanked the piece out and threw it into the water. Now the blood was running clean. He let it wash out before ripping a rag off his sleeve and soaking it in the water. Next, he opened one of the salt packets with his teeth and poured it onto the wound. Jack's teeth clenched, he seethed as the salt burned the raw flesh, and he quickly pressed the rag down before tied it off.
"If I can keep this leg, I'll be in debt to you…" He glanced up into the sky before laughing until a coughing fit wrecked him. Maybe five hours to go.
The plane ride consisted of Riley patching in Matty to different executives in the CIA, Matty screaming at them for not being able to help, and Bozer trying to console Mac who refused to engage. Mac was staring out the window, trying to keep Jack alive in his mind, if he could do that mentally then perhaps he could succeed in reality. He often glanced at Matty and Riley, feeling a strange nostalgia for a job he just recently left.
"I am going to personally fire every single on of those idiots."
"Nothing?" Riley rubbed the temple. "How is this possible, it's the freaking CIA!"
"Matty, why did the CIA want Jack back?" Bozer asked. She took a moment to collect herself.
"I got a notice a few months ago that Franklin Moore was interested in having Jack back for an op,"
"And you know this man?" Suspicion lingered in Bozer's voice.
"What are you getting at Boze?"
"I don't know, but Jack is back on one op and it goes south, just like that? You've always said he was a good field agent."
"One of the best," Mac chimed in.
"I know Mac leaving was unpredicted…but it feels like someone's been waiting for this."
"As much as I hate to indulge conspiracies, Bozer, I think you may have a point. Riley, find out what you can about Franklin Moore. I'm going to call a friend." Matty went to one side of the plan for the personal call. The plane fell silent and Bozer looked to Mac, who did not seem comforted by the possibility that someone was specifically after Jack.
"Mac," he forced his friend's attention on him. "I think you need to talk."
"I'll wait till we land in Ecuador…Jack can make it three more hours." He was playing with a paperclip between his fingers.
"I'm not saying that you have to write a eulogy now, but you've been through a lot these past few weeks and you need to let some of it out." Riley moved closer to them.
"You think you're the only one freaking out?" She sighed. "When Jack told us what him and Matty decided, yeah, I was upset but I kind of understood…the two of you never functioned well apart, and I'm not trying to blame anyone but…" She felt herself ranting. "We want Jack back just as much as you do.
"He called me, acting like everything was fine." Mac started. "He never told me much about being in the CIA, but he always used to tell me how lonely it was. He sometimes said even Matty's voice was comforting, so that says it all." Mac looked out the window to collect himself. Bozer couldn't help but smile endearingly. "It's scary to think that someone would go through all this trouble just to get to someone you care about."
"Now you know how we felt with Murdoc." Riley joked. "But that's why we have each other, we watch each other's backs."
"I should've been there to watch his…" Mac's eyes almost seemed red with tears.
The cool water helped against the fever, but Jack could begin to feel cold traveling up his spine—blood loss often did that to a man. It made him think back to hot days in the Sandbox, holding wounded boys as they shivered under the sun, sweating with blue lips. Suddenly, the canvas beside him ripped open as a silver knife poked through and swiped down, then, a man's brawny hands reached in and grabbed Jack. Like a rag doll, he was dragged out and throw a distance into the stream where he landed on his back and rolled. Black and red spots grew and shrank before is eyes as he caught the cry of pain in his throat.
"Jackie," the voice said, coming from a mountain of a man whose face was painted in shadows from the stark sun. "I know you, I knew you were coming here." Jack struggled to compose himself, to roll himself up to this feet in feeble defense. "It's where I would've gone to: back to water, back to shelter, to food…why would they look where they've already been?" He walked forward, heavy steps kicking up water. "I'm sure that's what you thought." He picked Jack up by the front of his shirt and brought him up to look at his face.
"Bobby, baby," Jack laughed. "You look good." Bobby took Jack's head into his monstrous hands and slammed it into the stream, holding it under until he squirmed. He was yanked back up, fresh blood now streaming down his face. "Thanks Bobby, I needed that." Jack spoke while coughing up water. "It's been a while," Jack writhed as Bobby started to grip the man's broken arm trying to wipe the grin off his face.
"You're as annoying as always." Bobby growled.
"Hey, one man's trash is another man's treasure."
"And who's treasure would that be?"
"Oh…just the smartest man in the world, I'm kind of his partner in crime." He grinned, cheeky until he took another dip into the water. Bobby brought him up, holding him by the neck. Jack again coughed up water until blood trickled down the corner of his lip. The smile finally faded as he held Bobby's wrist, struggling to breath, struggling to remain conscious. Bobby chuckled, pleased with himself and walked them over to the bank where he dropped Jack down beside him.
"Looks like you got hit there," Bobby poked the bullet wound on his right side, sticking his finger into it until Jack hissed from the burn. He wiped the blood on his shirt and watched Jack wheeze. "Collapsed lung?" He asked.
"I don't know…I don't think so…" Jack gasped. "Just a nick,"
"If you say so." Bobby sighed, hands on his knees. They both listened to the stream in silence. "Sorry about before."
"You threw me around like a hay bale, and then drowned me. Twice."
"I didn't drown you. You'd be dead if I drowned you." Bobby grumbled.
"I have people coming…" Jack was drowned out by the radio on his hip. The man next to him took it into his hands and threw it into the water.
"They don't quit do they. I guess if you pay men enough they'll just about anything."
"You didn't tell them that you found me?"
"No. You were about to tell me about this people I have to worry about. Is that smart guy coming?"
"Yup,"
"Think you'll live to see him again?" Bobby locked gazes and took pleasure in the silent plead for mercy he saw in Jack. "You have it coming, don't try and guilt your way out of it."
"You know why I did it, Bobby." Jack's voice cracked. Bobby simply sighed and scratched at his black hair until he stood, looming over the other man. He took out his knife and kneeled over Jack, pressing the knife to the man's sternum. "Bobby—"
"I've never been able to decide…how I wanted to do this. Part of me wishes the truck didn't do as much to you. I thought about telling those men to go easy, but that'd just be suspicious." He spoke will birds moved through the tree tops over the wide stream. Jack did nothing as the tip of the blade slowly sunk into his skin, it felt like a bee sting compared to the rest of his body. "But there wasn't much point was there because you killed two of them. They had guns to your head, a crippled man, and you still killed them."
"What'd you think was gonna happen?" Jack brought the attitude back and this elicited pressure from the knife.
"I don't know. Maybe I thought you'd come across something that could finally kill you."
"It's been close these past years. That smart kid I mentioned, almost gotten me killed more times than the Sandbox. He's like his own portable Sandbox."
"But your still here."
"He's also very good at saving me."
"Like's he's going to do here and now?"
"That's the plan." Jack watched Bobby sheath his knife and then lean against Jack's wounded leg.
"Not part of my plan." He said. Jack's face grew red as he tried to stifle his screams and not give the monster any satisfaction. "Come on," he yanked him onto his weak feet and started to lead him away from the stream. "I don't plan on being seen from above either." Limping beside him, Jack huffed with each step.
"Just kill me Bobby. I don't have the patience anymore for this torture stuff…been there done that."
"At least you got to go home to your country, to people who loved you. My name is still marked as traitor."
"Cause you are one, and you're being one now. I was your brother!"
"And what was I when you gave me up?" He twisted Jack's broken arm until he fell to one knee.
"You were going to kill those people, Bobby, all because you thought they were housing a terrorist." Jack spoke through the stabbing pain, and he refused to kneel any further to his once friend. "You know where I stand on that…you knew when you chose to go into that village."
"Yeah." Bobby bit the inside of his lip and nodded viciously. "I did know that, though I was hoping you'd forgive me." His voice broke slightly. Bobby released Jack's shoulder and looked down upon the broken solider; the man was red with both fresh and dried blood, sweating from the fever, eyes distant and struggling to focus, body twitching from the random jolts of pain. "This kind of feels like those hunters who go after the bucks with the biggest, most beautiful antlers. You're angry at them for killing something that's obvious so meant to survive, but at the same time you're jealous because you wish you could kill something so worthy." Jack was silent, face stern.
"You were never a prophet, Bob."
The team jogged across the hot asphalt from their jet to a helicopter warming up a hundred yards away. It was forced to fly over from an Air Force Base in Columbia after all CIA agents in Ecuador went dark when Matty tried to get in contact. Two marines were sent over with them, waiting inside for liftoff. Matty stopped before the they could board, and she turned back to her team.
"No," Mac read her mind. "We're coming with you."
"We're going into the field, I can't tell you what we're going to find."
"We know," Riley swallowed the knot in her throat, holding her mouth into a stern line. "We're coming." The team climbed into the helicopter and greeted the two, armed marines as they began to leave the air field.
"So, who are you people?" One asked.
"Government think tank," Mac replied with a grin without thinking. Bozer and Riley both gave each other a look with a raised eyebrow.
"We're going after Jack Dalton, CIA." Matty explained into the headset. "All we know is that his mission went south around an isolated bridge outside of Quito. We know he's been injured and hiding out in the jungle." She read the confusion on the marines' faces. "Trust me, we wouldn't have called you out here if anyone else answer our calls." Meanwhile, Mac took out his cell and dialed Jack's number, his heart painfully beating while waiting for his friend to pick up. "Jack!" A laugh escaped him as he plugged his other ear to hear over the rotors of the copter. "We're here, where are you?"
The blade of the silver knife pressed against his windpipe as Bobby held the phone for him beside his ear. Jack couldn't help but smile at the sound of Mac's voice, but he still cursed them for making it to Ecuador, for possibly being forced to witness his death. Without having to speak, Bobby had made it clear that any divulging of their location (under the canopy by the stream) would result in his throat being sliced open. Mac asked where he was.
"Not sure Mac…" Jack looked up through holes in the canopy where patches of blue sky peeked through. In the distance he could hear the beating of the helicopter. "Jungle all looks the same."
"Well, are you near the bridge, any landmarks you can see?"
"No…" Jack swallowed and felt the knife move, a sliver of blood trickling down. "Just…take your time." He breathed.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing, man." Jack felt Boddy slide the blade down to his side where the gunshot wound was; he felt his own body cringe as he stifled a scream.
"Jack, where are you?" The helicopter became louder overhead. If Mac was there beside him, then he could've thought of some clever way to escape this: speak in code or distract the man and signal the chopper with a homemade flare.
"Mac—" Bobby shoved the knife in further, and the battery died on the phone.
"Oh?" Bobby tossed it before giving Jack his full attention. He grabbed his neck from behind and twisted the blade into the wound. Jack, exhausted and on the brink of passing out, wasted no energy in quieting his pain. Dots of black and red flashed before him as he slumped back into Bobby. "Don't leave me yet." He said, catching Jack. Overhead the treetops swayed as the helicopter fly by. He stepped back against a tree trunk with Jack in his arms, waiting for it to pass them by. Bobby felt Jack struggling to breath against his chest, the fever and punctured lung taking its course, so he dropped him on the ground. "You're dying, Jack." He waited for a snarky response but got none as the man struggled to simply keep his breathing steady and long. "It never really seemed like your thing."
"No, I don't think it is…" Jack almost wanted to scream out as he heard the helicopter searching overhead.
"Did you ever think about me when I fled the unit?" Bobby was also aware of the helicopter nearby. "Or did I just disappear."
"Of course, I thought about you. I have to, I have to think about everyone from back then." He tried to stop the bleeding from the wound on his right side, but the fresh blood just made it slippery and the trembling in his fingers didn't help. "The good and the bad."
"What should I do? Every time I consider killing you, something compels me not to."
"That's your conscience, Bob. Did you feel that the day you walked into that village?" Jack tried to move into a more comfortable position when his whole body tensed.
"No." Bobby stood. "Let me put you out of your misery."
"Don't lie to yourself. You don't have the guts to kill me…it ain't mercy."
The helicopter circled the jungle around the crash site of the truck for some time before the captain decided they wouldn't be able to see anything from above. He brought them down beside the truck in the stream, the only area wide enough to avoid getting the rotors and tail caught in vegetation. Once the bird landed, Mac wasted no time jumping out into the water.
"Mac," Matty's sudden snap surprised him enough that freeze Mac. "That is not how we're doing this!" The two marines quickly hopped outside and started to cautiously fan out. "They are leading this search.
"Then why are we here?" Mac yelled back.
"Mac don't do this." Matty simply gave him a solemn stare and Mac looked between Riley and Boze.
"Sorry, but I don't work for you anymore." Mac took off into the jungle, doing what Jack would've done and following his gut. He broke through the vines and just felt himself running; he ignored the branches scratching his cheeks and tried to listen for any signs of life, preferably Jack's. "Jack!" His lungs burned from the run, but he heard movement in the silence. "Jack," he burst through the thicket to find a large man wielding a knife, standing over Jack's body. "Who are you?" His voice came out raspy and desperate.
"Doesn't really matter, does it." The man said gruffly. Mac looked down at Jack's face, eyes closed but contorted in pain, blood and wounds all over. "I couldn't kill him, and you came like he said you would." The man kept looking between Jack and his knife; Mac tried to approach slowly, lowering himself to the ground beside Jack. "How many men are with you?" He asked.
"Look, I don't want any trouble."
"You're supposed to be a genius?" He asked this while backing away into the jungle. "That's what Jack said at least."
"I'm just his partner." Mac said, touching Jack's without taking his eyes off the stranger, who nodded and seemed to give up and walk away.
"Tell him…I still wish I could've done it."
He left.
Mac was stunned for a moment before the realization that he was with Jack kicked in. He wanted to shake the man awake, but first saw his busted arm all black and purple, then a bleeding gunshot wound to his side. Instinct brought him to press down on the bleeding wound which promptly stirred Jack. He flinched and weakly opened one eye, they struggled to focus on Mac.
"Easy, big guy." Mac could feel both of them shaking, one from fear and the other pain.
"That you Mac?" Jack's voice was broken. Mac started ripping cloth from his sleeves to press down on the wound.
"Jesus, Jack, how…you're going to be okay."
"I know, I look real pretty now." The joke came out harsh as he inhaled sharply, grabbing Mac's forearm with his bloody fingers, trying to take the pressure off the wound.
"No, stop—I know buddy…I know…" His eyes darted across the other ailments; he saw the leg wrapped up just below the knee and the obvious fever on his face. "Everyone came,"
"Even Matty?" He tried to squeeze out a smile.
"Even Matty," Mac began to formulate a plan to get Jack back to the chopper. "Can you walk?" Jack tried to move for a moment, eyes squeezed shut, and then simply shook his head.
"Can hardly keep my eyes open."
"We need to get you help." Mac's mind started to piece together a mental stretcher made of vines and sticks when Jack's bloody hand grabbed his friend's shoulder.
"Stop it," he wheezed. "I change my mind," he tried to move, grunting the whole way into a sitting position. "I'm going to walk."
"Jack, you've lost too much blood, you're delirious…" He fought against Jack but was afraid to push him back down with too much force. Soon, Mac gave in and resorted to taking his friend's weight against his body. He felt his chest tighten as he and Jack began to walk back through the jungle, each step Jack threatened to fall over, his legs buckling as he limped into Mac. He had his good arm around Mac's neck, while Mac pressed against his side into the gunshot wound.
"Hey," Jack mumbled, his head heavy on his partner's shoulder. "You wanna know something crazy?" Mac wanted to yell at him to conserve his energy, but instead he let the single tear fall and asked…what? "That man…used to be my friend…" Jack struggled to breath and tears of his own fell; he laughed pitifully. "…and I don't blame him…"
"Jack, shut up." Mac felt Jack falling unconscious as he eased him to the ground. Then, one of the marines approached them, weapon drawn; he immediately holstered it on his shoulder and dropped down to them. "We need to get him to a hospital." Mac said, cradling Jack's head in his hands.
"Come on," the marine moved to take him when Mac snapped.
"I got him, just…get the chopper ready."
Matty stayed with Bozer and Riley, ignoring every screaming fiber of her being that told her to go out there and find her agent, her friend. She watched the wall of jungle vegetation, the stream of water running under the chopper's gimbles, and held her breath; the other two did the same.
"He's going to be okay, you know." She said, taking a deep breath.
"I know," Riley said, her voice cracking, making it sound more like a wish than a statement. Bozer grabbed her hand and put his other one to his lips, pressing.
"He's been through a lot, and I don't think he'd ever live it down if this is how he went." Matty felt her eyes burning when one of the marines ran out and slide down the small slope. He trudged through the water and screamed to the pilot to start the helicopter.
"What happened?" Bozer jumped to his feet, but the marine only radioed for his partner to come back for evact. "Hey," he screamed, when Mac stumbled out of the brush, Jack on his back. He was strained under the weight, sweat running down his neck, hair dirty and unkempt. Jack's head was nestled into his shoulder, one arm crossing in front of Mac's chest, the other pressed between his stomach and Mac's back.
"Mac!" Riley hopped out of the chopper and ran up to him, Bozer followed, and Matty was frozen. Riley's jeans got muddy as she climbed the back to meet them; she reached out to touch Jack, but the blood made her stomach roll over and her hand quivered over his body. Bozer said nothing and helped steady Mac as they slid down into the stream. Meanwhile, Mac couldn't acknowledge them, the only thing he could focus on was Jack's shallow breaths into the nape of his neck, and the chopper ten feet away. It all went silent as the marines pulled Jack inside, everyone climbed in, the door was closed, and they were lifting into the air. Mac's hands were shaking as he tried to take the med kit off the wall to patch up his friend, but the marines took it from him and ripped open Jack's shirt. They carefully removed the makeshift sling bandages in order to properly treat the wounds as they flew back to the nearest air base. It was cramped in the chopper. Jack was sprawled out on the floor, both marines working over him, Bozer held Riley in his arms on his lap, Matty sat in one of the seats, balling her hands into fists, and Mac sat beside her.
"I've lost his pulse," one of the marines suddenly spoke.
"Jack!" Riley screamed, but Bozer held her there. They ripped the AED from the wall and began to place the pads on his chest.
"Clear!" Jack's body flopped, then went still. They waited. Mac stood as much as possibly in the chopper, his face hardening with anger and fear. "Clear!" Another shock. They waited. They checked for a pulse. "…I got something." Jack's chest rose shallowly, his breathing raspy. Mac felt his legs go numb and he fell to the floor against the chopper door. The marines ignored him and continued working; they put a breathing mask over him and began pumping the rubber ball attached to feed him oxygen. He leaned back against the cool metal and felt himself grow nauseous at the thought of Jack dying there in front of him.
"You don't get to do this." He growled under his breath, tears pooling in his eyes. "You're Jack Dalton, you fight…because you're not allowed to leave me." As if Jack heard, his eyes twitched, and his body was wracked with a cough, blood splattering against the air mask. The marine hold it took it away to calm him but Jack only gasped and writhed as he failed to figure out where he was; he threw a wild fist when Matty suddenly appeared, catching the weak arm and holding it against her chest. She leaned over him, so he could see her face.
"You're okay, Jack." She said softly, kneeling to run a hand through his sweaty hair. Jack couldn't quite make out the rest of the chopper, but he recognized her, and a smile grew. He closed his eyes and mumbled something only she could hear. "She knows." Matty said. Riley's head snapped over, eyes aching to know what he said. Jack mumbled something else. "He knows too." Mac watched Jack close his eyes.
"Get ready, they're meeting us." The pilot hollered back to them, suddenly beginning to descend, and then the doors were opened and winds from the chopper blades rushed into the cabin. Medics were there with a gurney, pulling Jack from the helicopter. The team instinctively rushed after them into the medical wing of the airbase as Jack was immediately wheeled into surgery.
It all became quiet as the doors closed them off.
"Matty," Riley turned around to her former boss. "What did he say?" She seemed hesitant at first.
"I'm not saying goodbyes." She said.
"I'm not asking you to." Riley stood firm.
"He said how lucky he was that he got to watch you grow up." Matty felt her throat tighten with the presence of tears. Mac watched them before they were all escorted to a waiting room.
Hours passed, Bozer and Riley fell asleep in the metal chairs, and Matty moved to sit beside Mac. "He said something about you too."
"I saw." Mac angrily kneaded his hands, rubbing off Jack's dried blood.
"Are you not going to ask what it was?"
"No." He growled. "Because he'll tell me when he wakes up." Mac turned to her with a rare fury in his eyes. Matty spoke anyway.
"He said you saved him." Those words almost softened Mac. "Not just now, but every day you save him." Matty watched Mac fight against the tears. "He said…you make him want to be a good person, and that, had he never met you, he would've lost to himself a long time ago." She said. Mac curled forward and dug his palms into his eyes and he tried not shake from the sharp breaths. He ran his hands down his cheeks to wipe away the tears.
"He's not dying, Matty. He promised me…the first time I was hit in the Sandbox, bleeding out, he promised he wasn't going to leave me, not until we found some awesome way to go together…"
"That certainly sounds like Jack. Come on, we should get you cleaned off." Matty led him to a bathroom where she took a wet paper towel and cleaned off his hands and arms. When they returned, there was a doctor waiting there. "How is he?"
"I…" the doctor seemed exhausted, shocked, "I've never seen anyone hold on like he did, and I've worked on many soldiers."
"He's Delta," Mac couldn't help but smile as he bragged.
"Well," the doctor almost laughed. "Maybe that explains it, but…"
"But what?"
"First off, is there any family we should contact for him?"
"I'm listed as his next of kin." Mac rushed the words out, hoping they could bring him to Jack.
"Okay, well he's alive. He's fighting off a serious infection, and with a collapsed lung at that. His left arm is broken in two places, and he'll need physical therapy in his right left to start…"
"Can I see him?"
"Fine, but just one of you now. He needs to recover."
"It's okay, Mac. I'll wait for these two to wake up." They left Matty in the waiting room, and Mac followed the doctor down a long, silent hallway, to a single room where he saw Jack inside. With a breathing mask on, a cast on his left arm, and bandages covered majority of his torso, Mac had difficulty recognizing him. He warily approached the bedside, though took Jack's good hand into his without thought.
"You said he was a Delta," the doctor spoke, keeping his voice low.
"Yeah, he was a Commander…one of the best snipers there was." Mac watched him breath.
"Does that mean you were enlisted as well?"
"Yeah, I was EOD and he was my handler, always watching my back. At times it felt like…even when I wanted to get away…he was there."
"Doesn't look like he's leaving you any time soon." The doctor left the two alone and Mac stayed until he fell asleep beside the bed. It was the force that work him. Squeezing around his hands brought him to raise his head where he locked eyes with Jack. Mac's body stood on its own as he squeezed Jack's hand back. He looked exhausted, but alive.
"Hey," Mac felt his throat burn from a lack of water. Jack arduously took in air, obviously in pain as his bandages expanded with his chest, wanting to speak but becoming aware of the oxygen mask on. "Need me to get a doctor?" He shook his head, the movement almost sending him unconscious. Jack took a moment to recover. "I know," Mac began, his voice wavering slightly—this caught Jack's weak attention, "I told everyone you were going to make it, and I know that was partly to prove it to myself, but I'm glad I was telling the truth…" Mac watched Jack's eyes pinched as he smiled under the mask. "Don't worry, I'm not going to ask who that was. You only have to talk if you want to." He sat down beside him and watched him remove the mask. Jack took a sharp breath of air and cringed, causing Mac to squeeze his arm. "Need a doctor?"
"No," Jack's voice was husky. "I'm fine,"
"Relatively…" Mac rolled his eyes. Jack chuckled softly, tired.
"I…he was just someone from my past…I did something to him, something I thought was right."
"Jack, I know you, and it was probably the right thing to do."
"I ruined that man's life, and…" Jack's voice split more as his welled up. "I think part of me wanted him to hurt me, because I got off clean…I was praised for what I did, and I never once thought of him." He gripped his side as pain shot through it. He pressed his head back into the pillow when the muscles in his body tensed.
"Stop. Please. You're not some evil villain, you don't try to hurt people—"
"I just do…one way or another…" Matty suddenly walked in with Riley and Bozer and Jack forced a smile on his face. "Hey," Riley ran up to his gave him a hug, holding back just enough to not aggravate his wounds. "How ya holding up, kiddo?"
"I should be asking you that Jack."
Mac watched this; he watched Jack smile and comfort his family, but he still saw it in his eyes—uncertainty. He'd been around Jack long enough to know what he was thinking. Right then, Jack was wondering if he even deserved the love…if he deserved them. Mac tried to silently get Jack's attention, to tell him that he deserved it all, no matter what may have happened in his past. Mac watched and felt a pain in his heart when he remembered that he chose to leave family. He stepped in and smiled with them.