MacGyver eased himself down into the seat with a mixture of relief and exhaustion. He couldn't remember ever being so thankful for the abundantly cushioned seats as he was in that very moment. With his eyes closed in silent reprieve, he mentally gauged Jack's progress as his friend walked by and sat in the seat directly across from him. He could feel the other man's gaze lock onto him, so he schooled his features and opened his eyes, meeting that piercing gaze head on. Jack had been busy fighting four guys to MacGyver's two, no need to worry the man about a couple of bruised ribs. Not to mention the fact, Mac didn't like to be coddled. Ever.

But especially not today.

"You okay?" Jack asked.

At first, Mac was worried that Jack had seen through his façade. But he quickly realized that, although there was an undeniable concern in the tone, there was no anxiety or alarm. So, MacGyver just smiled and said, "Couldn't be better," then he closed his eyes again before Jack saw his statement for the blatant lie that it was.

'I wasn't hiding my injury solely out of pride – okay, that might have been part of it because, let's face it, Jack had taken more hits than I had and he wasn't complaining. But mostly my refusal to admit being hurt was because I didn't want Jack to feel guilty for not being able to handle all six guys on his own. Sometimes I get the feeling that Jack thinks he's a superhero or something. And, to be completely honest, he's pretty much right.'

"Okay, good," Jack muttered, the relief in his voice bringing a fond smile to MacGyver's face. "Now, about this pilot."

That statement had Mac squinting one eye open again to regard his friend. "What about her?"

"I don't trust her, man."

He opened both eyes now, giving Jack the undivided attention his instincts deserved, and reminded him patiently, "I had the same reservations but she showed us the correct forms as soon as we asked for them. And I checked for the Foundation's hidden watermark, Jack. They're not forgeries. What else can we do?"

"My Spidey-senses are tingling, bro."

MacGyver grinned at the superhero reference despite himself.

"What?"

'The question was innocent enough because with all of Jack's seemingly superhero abilities, he had absolutely no idea what had been going through my mind just moments earlier. And he never would.'

Mac closed his eyes again, still grinning from ear to ear. "Nothing, Jack. Nothing at all."

Jack played Bejeweled on his phone while MacGyver slept. He was sure everyone would have expected him to be playing something more action packed – like Horizon Chase or the new Boxing app – and they would usually be right, but something about their new pilot still didn't sit right with him and stringing these jewels together helped him think.

He and their usual pilot, Milo Giglia went way back. He'd been there to fly Jack and Sarah home from Belarus in time for Jack to say a final goodbye to his dad. Jack had even been the one to recommend him for hire at DXS. In all these years, Jack had never known the man to 'call in sick'. Not to mention the fact that this had supposedly happened while they were on foreign soil. If that were true, and Milo really was sick, why wasn't he flying back home with them?

MacGyver shifted in his sleep and Jack didn't miss the pained groan at the movement. He focused his attention back on his young friend, getting the sneaking suspicion that Mac had downplayed – read: completely failed to mention – an injury. Again. He replayed their most recent mission escapades in his head and promptly remembered MacGyver being held by one bad guy, with another advancing on him.

Mac had eventually used the leverage of the man holding his arms behind his back to pull his knees to his chest and kick out at the other one. But Jack had seen that move a good 30 to 40 seconds afterwards. Jack knew, if he had been the one doing the advancing, his first few punches would've been to the ribs and wouldn't have taken longer than half a minute or so.

With this knowledge, a genuine concern for his best friend's well-being, and a slight sense of betrayal that Mac had outright lied to him, Jack used his stealth training to get closer to MacGyver so he could lift the kid's shirt and see for himself what 'Couldn't be better' meant to his young partner. Unfortunately, Jack's phone chose that exact moment to ring.

MacGyver woke to find Jack inches away from him. Startled, he gasped and pushed hard into the back of his seat in an attempt to put some distance between himself and what he deemed to be an attack. Both of these ill-conceived actions combined to bring involuntary tears to his eyes. Covering his face with one hand as he tried to breathe through the pain, he vaguely heard Jack answer the phone. "Patty, I'll have to call you back."

Seconds later, when he was still unable to bring sufficient oxygen into his lungs, Mac felt a strong, calloused hand gripping the back of his neck, grounding him. But it wasn't enough.

"Come on, kid. Breathe."

'Funny how not being able to breathe can take away all your inhibitions – like, I don't know, not wanting your indestructible best friend to see you cry?'

Mac grabbed a hold of the armrest with one hand, then, no longer concerned about hiding the tears in his eyes, he dropped his hand from his face, seeking out the other armrest at the opposite side of the seat. Instead, he found himself grasping another hand for dear life. Jack's hand, he realized instinctually.

Completely unaware that the tears in his eyes were now streaming down his cheeks.

The kid's tears broke Jack's heart but they also pushed him into action. He sat down in the seat next to MacGyver. After snapping the armrest up to stand between the two seats, he turned the younger man as gently as he possibly could so that MacGyver's back was pressed against his chest. Uncoordinated hands fought him, so he grabbed both of his friend's wrists and gathered the arms into a crisscross pattern across the lean chest that was now heaving with panic and held them there.

"All right, Mac, I want you to breathe with me, kid. Okay. In and out. Come on, you can do it."

Some of Jack's words must have broken through the building panic because MacGyver started to do as he was told.

"That's it. Nice and slow. In. And… out. There you go. Good boy."

MacGyver came to his senses enough to realize he was practically sitting on Jack's lap. Mortified, he tried to push and pull away but Jack's stronger and more coordinated arms held him where he was.

"Just relax, kiddo. It's just you and me here."

Mac's eyes darted around the airplane, confirming what he already knew to be true. They were alone. He still didn't like it but he forced himself to relax and breathe. For now.

Jack kept one arm stretched out across Mac's chest, keeping his arms immobile, then used his free hand to card through the blond hair. The younger of the two was loathe to admit it but the father-like gesture was actually soothing.

'Just one more thing to add to the list of things that Jack will never know."

It warmed Jack's heart to feel Mac's tension ease significantly once he started stroking his hair. But he could still see the shame burning the kid's cheeks. Mac never liked to show weakness. Even around his best friend. Well, that was just too bad.

Once he was breathing normally, MacGyver made a move to scramble off Jack's lap but Jack held him firm. "Easy, Mac. Unless you want to have a repeat of the last few minutes. Just let me do the work."

Cheeks flushing even brighter, Mac felt Jack's hands slip beneath his arms and allowed himself to be gently lifted off his friend's lap until he was relatively standing on his own two feet. As Jack stood up behind him, MacGyver made a move to return to his original seat.

"Ah, ah, ah," Jack gently scolded, taking him by the elbow and leading him to the sofa at the back of the plane.

"I'm fine, Jack," was the petulant mumble Mac heard coming out of his own lips.

'That's right, Mac. Because acting like a five-year-old is so gonna help your case.'

Either Jack was able to decipher the mumbling, or knew what he was saying because it had been said on so many other occasions. "Fine. Right. Whatever you say, kid." He helped MacGyver down onto the sofa, then leaned down to pull his legs up and ease the younger man onto his back.

As Jack unfolded a blanket to lay over top of him, Mac felt his pride rear its ugly head. "I'm not a kid and you are not my father," he whispered, surprised at the bitterness of his tone. He watched as Jack froze, saw something flicker in his eyes, then it was gone as fast as it appeared.

"Get some sleep, Mac," was all Jack said as he spread the blanket out over top of him.

"Jack…" MacGyver tried.

But Jack had already given him his back and was walking away. "Last I checked, talking isn't sleeping," he tossed over his shoulder.

'I have no idea why I said that to him. Wait. That's not true. I knew exactly why and it had absolutely nothing to do with Jack. But knowing the reason didn't make it a good excuse. And it certainly didn't give me the option to take the words back.'

MacGyver watched as Jack sat down in a seat about halfway down the plane. Still, he sat facing him, so he hadn't completely turned his back on him.

So, with guilt weighing on him, the blond fell asleep watching his best friend dial a number into his phone.

'Unfortunately, we mere humans sometimes forget that even superheroes have feelings. Harsh words from the people they care about is pretty much their kryptonite.'

Exceedingly thankful that Patricia Thornton was back at the helm of Phoenix where she belonged, Jack called her back as promised, providing him with a perfect excuse to give Mac some space. As he waited for the call to go through, he studied his young friend – who looked even younger while drifting in dreamland. He didn't regret what he'd done. A breathing MacGyver meant a living MacGyver and that always trumped any kind of pride in Jack's book. That said, he understood more than Mac thought he did…

Suddenly, Jack realized the line still wasn't ringing on the other end. He pulled his phone away from his ear to look at the screen – no service. Huh. That was a first. He turned in his seat and looked back at the closed cockpit door. Okay, let's not jump to conclusions, Jack.

He stood up and tiptoed back to the sofa. Again, going into stealth mode, and knowing that at least his phone wouldn't almost kill the kid this time, he reached into the inside pocket of MacGyver's coat and pulled out his cell phone.

No service.

His gaze once again found the cockpit door, Spidey-senses roaring now.

"What is it?"

The unexpected sound of MacGyver's voice almost made Jack jump in surprise. However, his Delta Force training ensured he didn't even flinch.

"You're supposed to be sleeping," Jack whispered.

"And you're supposed to be checking in with Thornton," Mac whispered back. "And why are we whispering?"

"Because I couldn't check in with Thornton."

Still on his back on the sofa, MacGyver peered up at him with confusion. "I'm just waking up but I'm pretty sure that made absolutely no sense, Jack."

"You were only asleep for all of about 10 minutes," Jack informed him, reaching an arm beneath MacGyver's shoulders to help him into a sitting position. "You sure that was enough shut-eye?" he asked, easing the kid to his feet… and not missing for a second that Mac was gritting his teeth throughout the entire process.

"Power naps work best for me," MacGyver whispered between still-clenched teeth. "Besides, judging by the look on your face, you need me."

"Always," Jack said softly. "But you do know that I'm going to have to take a look at those ribs eventually, right?"

"Eventually," Mac conceded. "But, for now, how about you explain to me what exactly is going on."

"Remember those doubts I had about our lady pilot?"

"Yeah," MacGyver responded, drawing out the word with a sense of dread.

"Well, they're turning out to be well-grounded."

"I think you mean well-founded, Jack." MacGyver was unable to completely hide his smirk. Jack was the smartest guy he knew when it came to tactical training, weapons, self-defense, and a lot of other things people who judged the book by its cover might be surprised to learn about.

Grammar was definitely not one of those things.

That said, Jack's withering glare told Mac this was not the time for teasing. Even if he was just trying to make sure that what he'd said earlier about Jack not being his father didn't just totally ruin the best friendship he'd been able to achieve since Bozer.

Jack being Jack picked up on what Mac was thinking without a word ever being said – another one of his myriad of skills – and placed a calloused palm on the back of MacGyver's neck once again, giving it a firm squeeze. "We're good, kid. And we always will be, okay?"

MacGyver offered a curt nod in response, the suspicious lump in his throat preventing him from saying anything.

"Okay," Jack said, giving him a quick one-armed hug. "Now, what say we take out this imposter pilot and get ourselves home?"

"Sounds good," Mac finally managed.

Stealth pushed to the wayside, Jack ran up the aisle toward the cockpit, with MacGyver close behind. He tried the door, not surprised to find it locked, then took a step back and kicked it. Hard. The door shuddered a bit but didn't give. Mac took a step up so they could try to kick it down together but Jack pulled him back again. "Not this time, amigo."

"Why not? It'll be faster."

"First," Jack said, taking a step back and kicking the door again, "we don't have your little lens under the door thingy to give us a heads up about what's waiting on the other side, and my first priority is keeping you safe."

"Second," another kick, "I'm not sure exactly how you're injured but I do know you are injured in some way."

"And third, which is my personal favourite," Jack added with a sly grin, "I got this." He accentuated the final word with another kick and the door, which had been blocked by the body of the co-pilot, crashed inward.

Jack glanced down at the co-pilot with an apologetic wince that the man would never see.

"Uh, Jack," MacGyver said softly.

Realizing his mistake an instant too late, Jack looked back up and found himself face to face with the barrel of a Glock-19.

"Put your hands in the air and back up," the lady pilot said, with the faintest trace of an accent that hadn't been present before.

Jack did as he was told.

"I saw the two of you on the security camera earlier," she informed them. "It was very sweet."

MacGyver blushed but his eyes showed only indignant anger.

'It was bad enough having the man you admire most in this world seeing you at your weakest. It's a whole other thing when it's someone who is proving to be an enemy.'

"It was quite obvious how much you care about him," she added, moving her aim from Jack to MacGyver. "Give me the list or I shoot your friend," she demanded, holding her hand out expectantly.

Jack lowered his arms to herd Mac behind him. "Oh, sweetheart, you wanna get to him, you'll have to go through me first."

Mac tried to worm his way around Jack to stand beside him instead of behind him. Unfortunately, Jack blocked him at every pass. "Jack," MacGyver hissed, "don't do this." One more not-so-gentle shove and MacGyver found himself in the lavatory with the door being swung shut behind him. He threw himself at the door but something – probably Jack – was blocking it.

"As you wish," MacGyver heard the pilot say. BANG!

"NO!" MacGyver yelled, even more desperate now to open the door but still unable, like Jack was now a dead weight –

'Don't even think that, Mac!'

"Jack! Let me out! Jack!" MacGyver pounded on the door, then his eyes scanned the bathroom, looking for something – anything – that he could use to get out. He pushed his hands roughly through his hair. "Think, MacGyver, think," he muttered to himself, dismayed at the panic he heard in his own voice.

All of a sudden, it was like the floor was yanked out from beneath him and he was thrown to the other side of the lavatory. Which could mean only one thing - the plane was in a dive! The pilot must have turned off the auto-pilot function.

A moment later, the door opened. Just like that. No, not just like that, as Mac saw Jack's hand lower down from the door handle to rest on the floor next to his sprawled body, blood seeping from a wound in his thigh. "Jack!" he yelled, lunging forward to kneel at his friend's side.

Even as he fell to his knees, palming Jack's clammy (already?) and alarmingly pale face, he saw something move in his peripheral vision. He turned to see the lady pilot, parachute fastened securely on her back, running for the side hatch. She was too far away for Mac to stop her. Maybe he could have if his ribs weren't aching worse than ever from his tumble into the lavatory wall moments earlier. But…

Needing to stop Jack from bleeding out but fully aware that once that door opened, both he and Jack would be surely sucked through the hatch with their new 'friend' minus the added bonus of a convenient and life-saving parachute, Mac stubbornly avoided looking at Jack's leg – so much blood! – and dragged him back into the cockpit with him.

He pushed aside the lifeless body of the co-pilot, trying desperately not to think about how that could be Jack in a few minutes, and tried to quickly close the door. Too late. The wind and suction was sudden and extreme. MacGyver was standing behind the door, so he was protected from most of it, but he watched helplessly as the co-pilot's body was sucked into the main aisle of the plane and, Mac could only assume, propelled through the hatch and into the ice-cold atmosphere.

Then Jack's struggling form started to follow. His hands were shooting out to grab hold of something, anything, but failing. Even Mac's own hands were out of his reach. So, MacGyver lunged forward and managed to grab Jack's belt buckle, hauling him back with every ounce of strength he had left, while also throwing his weight against the back of the door in a frantic effort to close it. Inch by inch, the opening narrowed but it wasn't enough.

With one final desperate tug, he looped Jack's now strained but amazingly still fastened belt around the armrest of the recently deceased co-pilot's chair. With both hands free now, Mac was able to put one on either side of him for balance while he braced his feet against the back of pilot's chair and pushed with all his might against the door. He fell to the floor with a painful jarring motion as the door finally closed behind him. He knew he had to lock it but the pain was just too much. Besides, he was pretty sure the lock had been demolished when Jack had kicked the door in.

Now that the roar of the wind wasn't drowning everything else out, Mac was able to hear all too well the alarms going off all around him. The noise was too loud and the pain in his ribs too sharp. Feeling much like a four-year-old, he placed his hands over his ears and squeezed his eyes shut, just trying to think!

Then something changed. The plane seemed to right itself, even if only a bit. And some of the alarms stopped. He lowered his hands and opened his eyes to see Jack's back against the control panel across from him, concerned gaze locked on MacGyver.

'Leave it to Jack to be concerned about me, when he was the one with a freakin' hole in his leg!'

Behind Jack, MacGyver saw the Auto-Pilot button flashing. Giving his partner a silent thumbs up, he looked around to find something to wedge the door shut with and promptly found a flat head screwdriver. Taking a fortifying breath to prepare himself for the pain he knew was to come, Mac gritted his teeth and pushed the screwdriver between door and frame. He stepped back a bit to ensure it would hold, then instantly turned around to tend to Jack.

'I needed to think fast because, contrary to popular belief, no bullet wound could truly be preceded by the word 'just'.'

MacGyver unbuckled his belt and quickly ripped it out from beneath the belt loops of his jeans.

'Especially, when said wound is in the thigh. There are a lot of vital arteries in the leg. Every minute counted and too many of them had already passed! If I didn't get that bleeding under control fast, Jack could very well die! And, if that happened, I didn't much care if the plane crashed or not.'

He wrapped his belt around Jack's thigh, earning a moan of pain from his patient when he tightened it. "Sorry, sorry," he mumbled, meaning it but knowing it had been necessary.

'Some might call that melodramatic. I call it losing your best friend after saying cruel words to him that you never had time to take back. But, don't worry, I was not about to let that happen.'

"Auto-pilot can only do so much with an open hatch on the plane. You need to take over the controls, brother," Jack said, stating the obvious between pained gasps.

"I don't know how to fly a plane," MacGyver countered. "There's a reason why you're the one who's always behind that stick, y'know!"

Jack motioned for MacGyver to come closer. Unable to deny the man under the current circumstances, Mac went down on his knees next to him. Jack reached up and, yet again, gripped the back of his neck. MacGyver tried to ignore how much hotter the calloused palm felt as Jack pulled him in close so their foreheads were touching.

"I'm so sorry," Mac confessed. "I should have listened to you."

The look Jack gave him told him in no uncertain terms that that was the last thing on his mind. "You can do this, brah. I'll be right here with you, walking you through every step. Okay?"

"Promise?" MacGyver whispered, knowing how needy he sounded and beyond the point of caring.

"I do," Jack confirmed. "Now, get over there and save our lives just like you always do."