Paid in Full

By: Ridley

A/N: Thanks so much for the amazing feedback on this little tag! I so hope this part lives up to your expectations! If nothing else it is twice as long as the first chapter.;-) Let me know what you think. One more chapter to go! Again Mike Briar belongs to Gib and Nurse Sally is the generous Poxelda's creation. Thanks to Mary, who once again took time from travelling the globe to make this a better piece.

RcJ

Jack by-passed the War Room when they arrived at Phoenix even though Riley informed him Matty wanted to talk to him ASAP, and warned him, also via Riley, not to go near Agent Sang. Jack had no beef with Sang, especially after Bozer filled in all the details of the mission on their drive. No matter what some of the higher ups seemed to believe, Jack did not expect every agent at Phoenix to willingly throw themselves in the line of fire for Mac.

For one, Angus MacGyver was more resourceful and better trained than ninety-nine percent of the operatives they worked with. Mac had served in the Army, trained with Jack's Delta unit, and he could more than take care of himself and those around him. Secondly, and most importantly, defending Mac at all costs was Jack's damn job. Yes, he was loyal to his country. Yes, he would protect any agent at Phoenix at the expense of his life if necessary, but Jack Dalton's primary goal would always be to keep Mac alive.

It was why he didn't give a damn that Matty had summoned him to her office, no doubt to have a reasonable chat with him before he laid eyes on Mac. She obviously thought he was going to lose his shit, which seemed to be Riley's concern as well, and possibly Bozer's gleeful hope. The funny thing was that three people who knew him so well didn't truly understand that when Jack was in full on Papa Bear mode-as his Delta Unit used to call his fierce protective streak-he wasn't some lose cannon, rapid firing willy-nilly. He didn't go off half-cocked like some new recruit who'd just been handed his first gun might. Jack was something else entirely. Steady. In control. Methodical and somewhat detached. Deadly, just like a shot from a sniper's rifle.

"About time you got here." Phoenix's head nurse somewhat affectionately called The Evil Elf by Mac, but better known as Sally to all her other satisfied patients greeted Jack cheerfully when he entered the ward, drawing him from his dark thoughts. "I was about to lose the bet on you being here within a two and a half hour range of Mac being admitted. Typically I would have shot for the thirty minute window which is usually a better pay out as some of the newer staff don't really know how to take you two, but seeing as how Bozer gave me some inside info on why you weren't dragging Mac in here yourself this morning, I knew that would be pushing it even for you."

"How much money are we talking, Sally?" Jack tried for a half smile, although his face felt a bit like stone as he did so. He was afraid he might accidentally bear his teeth at the woman, and he didn't want to piss off the person in charge of Mac's care. "And who was crazy enough to bet against you-or should I say me?"

"Dr. Carl, and your punctuality earned me a cool fifty, which I will be using to pay for my next mani/pedi extravaganza with the girls." Sally pulled one of the computerized charts which reminded Jack of something from Star Trek from behind her station and motioned for Jack to follow her. "The man is taking his title as my work husband to a whole new level losing bets left and right. He unwittingly bought my first pair of Christian Louboutin last year." Sally gestured to the hallway that would take them to the suite of private rooms used for short stay stints. Jack had no idea what a Christian Louboutin was but kind of felt bad for Dr. Carl since apparently he and Mac were costing him major cash.

"You'd think being here about as long as I have that he would have gotten a clue by now that you don't play when it comes to Mac. Speaking of…" Sally paused at the first door they came to. She gave Jack the kind of serious frown that had his heart jumping around a bit despite the fact he'd braced himself for whatever shape he would find his partner in. "Should I call the good doctor and prep a trauma team for Agent Sang?"

"That depends on what you're hiding in that medical chart computer gizmo." Jack held her serious gaze for a moment, realizing that apparently everyone thought him bat shit crazy. He took some comfort in the fact that if he wasn't mistaken Sally looked almost as hopeful as Bozer had that Jack might indeed take his frustrations out on the operative who had been charged with taking his place and who had apparently failed miserably at the task. Unless Jack discovered Sang had willingly and negligently abandoned his post, he wasn't about to confront the guy, let alone send him to medical, but it made him feel better that he wasn't the only one that might have wanted someone to pay for Mac being hurt. "How's my boy doing? Really."

Sally folded her arms over the computer, not needing to consult it to fill Jack in on her patient's condition. "Most of the damage is superficial. Contusions, shallow lacerations and a couple of broken ribs. Basically they worked him over pretty good, but nothing he won't bounce back from in a few days, or a few hours to hear your ever-optimistic partner tell it."

Jack snorted. "Let me guess, he wanted to go home right away?"

"You know it. His responses are so pat, I can't get anyone to take bets on how fast he'll try and scramble out of here anymore." Sally's smile faltered a bit, and Jack knew her well enough to recognize a tiny crack in her tough as nails, completely professional demeanor. Mac might have dubbed her the evil elf, and there were times when Jack had found himself on the bad side of her bed side manner and a giant hypodermic that he agreed with his partner's assessment, but he never doubted that Sally had a soft spot for the kid. "The worst of it I think Mac caused himself by detonating some kind of device which he didn't care to elaborate on when he escaped. Whatever it was it packed enough of a punch to ring his bell really good, he gave himself a mild concussion."

"Sounds about right." Jack had heard enough, most of which Bozer had surprisingly gotten right. It wasn't that Jack thought Bozer and Riley would lie to him about Mac's health, but more that they might not know the full extent of Mac's condition, especially if they had relied on Jack's partner to relay said condition to them himself. He gestured to the door. "Is he awake or did you manage to slip him something in the IV I'm sure you or the doc insisted on to keep him here for your mandatory few hours of evaluation?"

"I would never drug a patient without their knowledge, Agent Dalton," Sally denied by rote. Jack was certain she probably slipped it into the conversation at some point like she had been known to do during one of those advantageous times when he and Mac were distracted by arguing over who needed to stay put and be checked over and why that was going to happen, no matter what the injured party protested. "Mac was told about the sedative that we administered before his x-rays."

"Then I'll be dealing with a loopy, Mac." Jack forced another grin that threatened to crack his face, just grateful his partner wasn't unconscious from an injury. "That's always fun."

"Jack?" Sally's tone stopped Jack, just as he wrapped his fingers around the doorknob. The nurse touched his arm, careful of the cast. The uncharacteristic move drew his eyes to hers and he felt his knees weaken a bit. "There's something else."

"Well, damn, Sally just spit it out because you looking all doe-eyed and shit is about to require me to have one of your on the sly sedatives." Jack let go of the door, started to fold his arms over his chest out of habit, but was prevented from doing so by his injury, which had him once more recalling just why Mac was in medical in the first place.

"Mac asphyxiated a good deal of water." When Jack frowned, Sally rushed on to add. "The x-rays showed his lungs are mostly cleared, but I would like to recheck him in a few days and Dr. Carl wants him on a round of antibiotic that I hope you might encourage him to take considering he said the water wasn't exactly of the sanitary…"

"Wait," Jack shook his head, holding up a hand. "Did I miss a part of the mission that included an impromptu swim?" It wasn't out of the realm of possibility. He and Mac had endued up in the water more times than Jack cared to recall.

"There were no natural bodies of water involved." Sally continued to hold Jack's gaze, her eyes filled with something Jack wasn't used to seeing from her-sympathy.

"Waterboarding?" Jack managed through a clenched jaw. He'd had his fair share of experience with water torture, going through the CIA in a time when enhanced interrogation techniques were still used in training recruits to resist such strategies in case they fell into enemy hands. That experience of course had been nothing compared to the real deal he'd suffered in the hands of his captors in Iraq. Jack wished he could say Mac had been spared the sensation, but in his worst nightmares Jack was treated to the contrary in vivid replay.

"Not in the traditional sense," Sally continued. "The finger shaped bruises on the back of Mac's neck and wrists suggest someone used force to possibly hold his head under water for extended periods of time."

"Okay." Jack's voice sounded devoid of emotion, matter of fact. Sally arched a brow at his reaction, or perhaps lack thereof. Even he recognized he'd reverted to some military default, understanding that a part of torture was the humiliation, the idea that you were at the mercy of another person. That your power had been stripped, right along with your dignity. It added insult to injury and Jack sure as hell wasn't going to add to what Mac had experienced by talking to anyone but him about it.

"He didn't want Bozer or the others to know, but said I could tell you." Sally's frown deepened as she continued to watch Jack, seemingly for some sort of more typical response. "Surely you know I've read both your files? I understand this isn't the first time either of you have experienced such treatment."

"I gathered." Jack understood Sally and several of the other medical staff had reviewed his and Mac's many write-ups including the more elaborate ones from the missions that still tore at Jack, the ones when he'd failed spectacularly at protecting his partner like Cairo and Buenos Aires. He held her gaze, knowing everything from his stiff stance to his schooled features spoke to how the ground between them had suddenly shifted. She was still the same chief nurse that Jack respected and even liked, but he'd reverted to Captain Dalton. "So you should understand that I know what to watch for. I'll be sure to inform you or the doctor if anything comes up that needs your attention."

"Am I to assume that means Agent MacGyver will be staying with you? Because before I write off on his psych assessment…"

"He doesn't need a damn psych evaluation!" It took every bit of resolve for Jack to keep his voice low, even managing to maintain a calm resonance. He couldn't, however, keep rage from flashing in his gaze, nor his face from flushing with anger. "As you pointed out it's not the first time either of us have had our heads shoved in a damn bucket of water while some asshole played twenty questions. Trust me when I say he can handle it." And if he couldn't...well that was where Jack came in.

To her credit, Sally didn't blink. In fact, she'd managed her own steely,calm façade. "Its standard operating procedures to assess mental state and support systems in place after an agent has been interrogated with extreme measures, a fact, as you pointed out, that you are well aware of, Jack."

"Damn it to hell," Jack huffed, running a hand down his face. He took a deep breath and tried to force his hackles back to neutral as he softened his stance to regain some ground with the woman. "Do you really think I'm going to let him out of my sight after all this, Sally?"

"I'd probably bet my beloved Christian Louboutin shoes that Mac would have better luck growing sideburns and a full Manchu than he does shaking you anytime soon." Her mouth twitched. "But if I want to keep my job, I still need a verbal confirmation of the contingency plan to put in my medical chart computer gizmo as you are fond of calling it."

"Mac would probably be totally against me doing anything to help you maintain your employment because quite frankly he's living for the day you retire, but I can reassure you that he's in good hands and I'll make sure he has anything he might need." Jack gestured to the door once more. "Now if you're done delivering bad news I'd like to see my partner."

"Be my guest." Sally waved him on. "Why'll you're visiting, I'll just go procure that prescription for Mac and grab you another sling for your arm seeing as how you must have forgotten yours in your rush to get here."

"Evil elf," Jack muttered, watching the nurse sashay away as if she'd just fleeced him for some cash. He quietly opened the door and let himself inside Mac's room.

Phoenix's medical rooms weren't as sterile as your typical hospital décor. There were no institutional colors ranging from stark white to dull gray, but walls painted a soft blue or sea green instead. Actual art adorned the place, top rate replicas of Renaissance greats, as well as top of the line electronics and media including a massive flat screen with Boze speakers that Riley likened to a giant I-phone due to its multi-functionality, a one stop shop for viewing x-rays, scans, or the latest viral you tube video. What Jack appreciated the most were the chairs, sleek, mobile, and as nearly as comfortable as the worn-in recliners he claimed at both his house and Mac's.

It only took once glance to the hospital bed holding Jack's partner to remind the older agent that despite Phoneix's best efforts, a jazzed up hospital room was still a damn hospital room in the same way a wolf was still a wolf whether sporting a sheep's clothing or not. There was no way to Feng Shui a freaking heart monitor, IV pole, or any of the other myriad of medical machinery inhabiting the space.

Even in sleep Mac looked like he was in pain. It might have been the bruises that stood out vividly against Mac's pale pallor and the swollen eye, with the white bandage taped neatly above it that created the illusion that if not for Sally's sneakiness with the drugs that the kid would be writhing in pain, but Jack seemed to sense his best friend's misery at a deeper level. He could have easily blamed his paranoia on the nurse's revelation about the water torture and the subsequent unpleasant memories it provoked- images of Mac strapped to a wooden table, his head covered with a thin material as their tormentors poured water over the kid's face while Jack watched on, helpless to do a damn thing to stop it- but Jack trusted his gut, by-passing the ergonomic chairs, to claim a spot on the edge of Mac's bed instead.

"You look like hell, kiddo." Jack would have gripped the kid's hand, offering some kind of physical assurance that he was there, that Mac wasn't alone, but the dark bruising circling around Mac's wrists stopped him. He touched one of the swollen marks. Marks made by some bastard with big, meaty paws, with the kind of strength that could hold a guy of Mac's considerable size down. Jack's eyes went to his best friend's throat, where similar contusions could be seen on the side of his neck. He gently pressed his fingers just above the largest bruise, needing to feel the strong beat of Mac's pulse despite the fact the monitors made the move unnecessary. Jack had just allowed himself a breath of relief when Mac stirred, mumbling softly.

"Mac?" Jack rested a hand on the kid's forehead, avoiding the bandage.

Mac grew more restless, shifting beneath Jack's touch, fingers twisting the blanket in a desperate grip. "No. No. Craddock, don't!"

"Shit." At the name from their past Jack brought his hand to Mac's shoulder gripping it, hoping to spare his partner anymore of the obvious nightmare. "Mac!"

Mac didn't wake, his breath becoming labored, tossing his head against the pillow with his eyes screwed tightly shut. Jack's gaze went from his partner to the machines by his bed one of which was now displaying the patient's elevated heart rate. Maybe Sally's sedative wasn't such a good idea.

"Come on, brother." Jack used his casted arm to keep Mac's other hand on the bed so he wouldn't dislodge the IV, ignoring the pain that flared from the use. The move had him hovering over Mac so that when the kid's eyes finally opened he yelped in surprise trying to scramble away, nearly bucking Jack from the bed. "Mac! It's me. Jack. Take it easy."

"Jack." Mac repeated, unsure and breathless. There was still a good bit of wild eyed panic in his gaze as he tried to focus. He'd broken out in a cold sweat, errant strands of hair stuck to his forehead. "Jack?"

"It's me, bud." Jack loosened his hold, easing back out of Mac's personal space, intent on giving him room. His partner didn't let him move far, taking Jack by complete surprise when he practically sprang to sitting, grabbing hold of Jack in a hard hug.

"I thought…" Mac got out, his voice muffled, before choking on his next words. "Craddock…"

"Take it easy, kid." Jack returned the desperate embrace, grimacing at the name Mac had once again spoken. He silently cursed Matty for whatever wounds this disaster of a mission had reopened-old battle scars Jack had worked damn hard to erase completely, ghosts he believed long ago exorcised. He could feel Mac's heart as it pounded between them, as well as his fast, shallow breathing. Mac's fingers were twisted in the back of Jack's shirt and his partner was shaking, bleeding off adrenaline and stress, his usual defenses weakened by injuries and whatever Sally had given him. Jack was reminded of the weeks and months after Afghanistan when Mac had battled such night terrors that Jack slept in the same room to make sure he could wake him before they escalated.

"I'm here, brother. You're safe." Jack swallowed hard. It was a mantra Jack hadn't had to repeat in a long time making him feel all the more remiss in his duties. "We're fine. It's all good."

It wasn't long before Mac let him go, pushing away enough that he could meet Jack's gaze. Jack cringed at the haunted, far too traumatized look in Mac's glassy eyes. "I watched Craddock kill you."

"Like that bastard could take me out." Jack forced a half smirk, reaching up to run a hand over Mac's damp hair, frowning when Mac didn't duck the blatant big brother move but merely blinked dazedly as if he wasn't quite convinced Jack was indeed real. Jack gently gripped the back of Mac's neck, careful of the bruises as he pulled the kid a little closer once more. "Craddock was messing with you back then, Mac. Just more of his shit to try and break us. It's over. Has been for years and you know it. We both made it out of Cairo alive. It was just a dream, bud."

"A dream," Mac nodded, exhaling slowly. He rested his forehead against Jack's for just a second, closing his eyes for a beat before pulling away. Jack could practically see the defenses go up at warp speed as his best friend shoved whatever awful memories that had surfaced back into the mental lock box he kept for such occasions. Mac cleared his throat, bringing his arm without the IV to wrap protectively around his mid-section, hunching over a little. "Right."

"Excluding the nightmare, how you doing?" Jack glanced over to the monitor glad to see Mac's heart rate had slowed down. He was also breathing easier, which Jack imagined was much better for his abused lungs and ribs.

"I'm okay." Mac touched the bandage on his head, brushing the back of his hand over his forehead to shove his hair out of his face. He met Jack's gaze as if he knew what the other man was thinking. "Really. This all looks worse than it is, Jack."

"And the other stuff? Sally said you had a bad time of it this go around." Jack wasn't deterred so easily. The kid's defense mechanisms served him well, sometimes they were too good, allowing Mac to tightly close the lid on things that only needed a little light to vanquish. "That what conjured Craddock's ghost, because you know good and well I smashed that bastard's skull for what he put us through. Remember?" Mostly Jack had killed the sadistic psychopath for what he'd done to Mac, but that was semantics. Dead was dead. Jack watched a storm of emotions pass through Mac's blue gaze before the kid finally nodded looking a little steadier.

"I know Craddock's rotting in Cairo where we left him."

"Good." Jack nodded. "Then you want to talk about what happened that had him walking around in that ginormous brain of yours again?" Even as Jack asked, he knew the answer. Mac was shaking his head even before Jack could get out all the words.

"Not really." Mac met Jack's gaze, pain flashing across his face when he let loose with a nasty cough. He gave a shake of his head. "It was just the usual reminders."

"Only you would consider being held against your will and tortured run of the mill, brother." Jack huffed, not missing how his partner tightened his grip around his ribs.

"Says the guy who taught me everything I know about resisting interrogation." Mac said it lightly, but Jack couldn't help feeling a twinge of guilt, as if he'd somehow failed in imparting an important task or skill. "It was a walk in the park compared to some of the things we've been through," Mac added as if he wanted to reassure Jack, but the fact Mac was belittling his own suffering for Jack's sake only made Jack feel worse.

Jack knew any attempt at further conversation on the topic would be a waste of breath, but couldn't help but to at least try. He gave a half laugh, rubbing the back of his neck where his muscles were still a tangle of knots. "I'm not sure I should take comfort in that, brother. Especially considering who you were dreaming about."

Mac wasn't taking the bait. He forced a grin that did a piss poor job of covering the lines of weariness and pain on his face. "What is it with you and dying in dreams, man?"

"Maybe it's a subconscious thing?" Jack reached around his partner and hit the button on the hospital bed that would raise the top half, allowing Mac to rest against it. The kid seemed to be struggling to stay upright now that the adrenaline surge from his nightmare was wearing off. He looked too damn young with his hair all mussed and way too vulnerable for Jack's liking with the blackened eye and nasty gash held together with butterfly bandages across one cheek. "You're not secretly wanting to get rid of me are you? Possibly try out a new partner?" Jack said the last part in jest, but couldn't deny the echo of doubt that resonated through him, the twinge of insecurity.

"I don't want a new partner." There was no trace of humor in Mac's voice now as he eased himself against the mattress, still looking at Jack. In fact, it was said with a little heat. "I told you that in Boston, and I meant it. I want to work with you, only you. We're a team."

"Yet you went on a mission with fellow mathlete and chess club member, Agent Sang." Jack raised a brow, his earlier anger kept in check by the fact Mac was not only physically hurt but smarting in other ways despite the tough guy act he was maintaining. He was torn about hashing things out when Mac was all out of sorts, but he needed to clear up one detail before he talked with Matty and the discussion with Matty could not wait. If the kid had any doubts, Jack needed to know before he made a stand with their director.

"That wasn't my idea," Mac shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I swear, Jack. I would never do that."

"Then why the hell didn't you tell me what Matty was thinking, about her ideas on busting us up, Mac?" Jack ran a hand through his hair, let out a pent up growl of frustration. "I get that you were hurting over Frankie, but when we found her and were in Paris." He made a flailing hand gesture as words failed him. "Shit, dude. Bozer had to tell me, only after dropping the bomb that you'd been injured on a damn mission no one had cared to mention to me."

"I…" Mac opened his mouth, then closed it before coughing once again, the wet sound of it making Jack feel even guiltier. "I was hoping Matty was maybe just thinking out loud, that she wouldn't do anything else with it, especially after she sent us to Paris. And I didn't want to tell you Matty's reasoning."

"What?" Jack laughed, torn between being touched his partner didn't want to hurt his feelings and feeling a bit indignant that Mac would think Jack would be offended by the remark when most of the people Jack knew were far below Mac's IQ level. "You didn't want to let me in on the fact she thinks I'm too dumb to be your partner?"

"That's not what she thinks," Mac denied, his face screwing up with his own frustration. He sat up straighter, his arm once more covered his ribs, making Jack want to punch someone. Instead, he clenched his one functioning fist until he felt the bite of nails against his skin. "You're not dumb, nowhere close to it."

"So pairing you with the Harvard graduate, Sang, with his doctoral degree in biochemistry wasn't a hint that she thinks you are severely, unequally yoked in this partnership?" Jack rubbed at his eyes, feeling the cadence of pounding pick up behind his forehead.

"I think unequally yoked is a term usually used to describe marriages, but…" Mac tried to redirect only to have Jack interrupt.

"A partnership is a whole lot like a marriage, brother." Jack shook his head, taking a deep breath to keep his emotions in check, hoping to ward off the monster of a headache that would not bode well for his meeting with Matty. "Hell, in our line of work, it's a lot more binding than something that can be dissolved by a team of lawyers and a damn court decree. I know there's that whole sickness and health and for better and worse clause, but we face life and death on a daily basis." He paused to search Mac's face, knowing that he'd let his feelings of hurt and betrayal bleed into his voice. "We've fought and bled together. Saved the freakin' world on more than one occasion. That's not the kind of bond a person decides to up and dissolve just because a guy's not up on his physics terminology."

"It goes beyond the last mission, Jack. I feel like Matty's not really understood me-from the very beginning. How can she completely grasp how our partnership works?" Mac shifted on the bed, wincing with the movement. Jack wanted to help but a glare from his partner had him reconsidering. The younger man seemed to find a position that wasn't hurting his damaged ribs and sighed. "I figured if I let Matty have her way and she saw for herself that partnering me with someone new wouldn't work out the way she thought then she'd drop her case like she did about my improvising when she realized that how I work in the field for all intents and purposes works."

Jack managed to halfway fold his arms over his chest, ignoring the twinge his injured arm gave at the motion. "Tell me this whole ordering Sang to stand down and letting yourself get captured wasn't part of that brilliant plan, because not only is that stupid…."

"I didn't sabotage the mission, Jack." Mac rolled his eyes, clearing his throat. "I'm not an idiot. Sang was two steps behind on everything from the get go, proving there's more to perfecting a working relationship than merely pairing people based on their IQ. I think Matty was already realizing the error in her logic before I changed directives, which I did when the contact we were meeting ended up with a bullet in his head minutes before we reached him and the mysterious package he promised us was nowhere to be found."

"Bozer mentioned that things went south quickly after you made it to Mexico." Jack knew from Bozer and Riley's debrief on the way to Phoenix that Mac and Sang had been sent in to meet up with a former FBI agent who claimed he had a book-a book that held vital information on several agencies, including a possible list of agents across the board of the intelligence community who played for more than one team and the illegal endeavors they were a part of. A proverbial holy grail.

Mac sighed again, picking absently at the tape of the IV. "It did, but you know as well as I do that a tell-all list of traitors would be worth a huge risk to retrieve. Apparently we weren't the only ones to think so."

"I can see a piece of cheese that tempting bringing a whole bunch of hungry mice out of the woodwork." Jack and Mac had definitely pulled some crazy shit for less payoff. They'd both played the forfeited chess piece in the strategic game that intelligence gathering could be. Who got taken by the enemy often depended on whether more finesse was going to be required to free the other one, or whether more brute force and fire power was called for. Jack never liked it when it was the latter and Mac was the one who willingly let himself fall into the hands of whatever bad guy they were dealing with. He shook his head. "What I don't understand is why you didn't call the job a bust when the informant was taken out and there was no trace of the mysterious notebook? Why the hell did you cancel exfil?"

"Because I did manage to recover his phone." Jack carefully gripped Mac's wrist to stop him messing with the IV and to bring his partner's somewhat still bleary gaze back to him. "I went through the pictures," Mac continued, glassy eyes searching Jack's. "He'd taken a whole set at a local restaurant in the town, a group of men at a table having dinner. I recognized one of the men. It was Mike Briar."

"Briar?" Jack let go of Mac's wrist realizing he'd tightened his grip at the mention of the CIA agent when Mac drew in a sharp breath. Briar and Jack had history, and not the pleasant kind. Most recently the bastard had the balls to accuse Jack of stealing a whole shitload of money when Jack had been loaned out to pull a recon job for The Farm in which he'd destroyed a stock pile of weapons and taken out an entire militia. Instead of a thank you, Jack had been on the bad end of a witch hunt, which included a full inquisition by the higher-ups. It wasn't the first time Jack had been screwed over by Briar, and he sure as hell didn't appreciate having his integrity called into question, but the sonofabitch had crossed a line when after failing to rattle Jack, he'd blatantly threatened the rest of Jack's team. "Why the hell would this whistleblower have pictures of Briar?"

"That's the million dollar question." Mac brought a hand up to touch the bandage on his head, looking drained. "One I figured I might get answers to if I let the other guys who also wanted the book take me prisoner."

"And did you find out anything?" Jack raised a brow, not happy with Mac's self-sacrificing plan, but resigned that he'd probably have done the same damn thing if the situations had been reversed. "Or are the bruises and broken ribs basically all you managed to get for your trouble?"

"You're not going to like it." Mac rubbed a hand over his eyes.

Jack suppressed the urge to stand up and pace. "Then it will be on par for the course, brother. Because so far I haven't liked anything about this damn mission, especially the parts where I've been lied to and replaced. Don't even get me started on finding out my partner has been on the very bad end of an interrogation. Briar is just, how did you put it, the rotten cherry on a very shitty banana split kind of day."

"I might have slightly misjudged their fervor in discovering the book. They were convinced I knew where it was." If Jack wasn't mistaken his partner grew a bit paler, looking even smaller on the bed as he drew the cover up when he was wracked with a visible shiver. "Turns out they were willing to do pretty much anything to find it."

Jack rubbed his eyes, feeling every bit of the sleep he missed the night before. He tried to block unwanted images of the situation Mac had found himself in from his mind praying water torture was the worst thing that happened. "So at least we know from their enthusiastic measures used during your interview with them that the freaking thing is probably real, and could be just as damning as your contact promised. If Mike wanted, it's possible he's one of the entries."

"I thought the same thing." Mac nodded. "When they were questioning me, they kept calling it Patton's Notebook."

Jack frowned. "As in General George Patton?"

"Maybe." Mac shrugged, failing to stifle a wide yawn that had him wincing and touching the cut across his cheek as if he'd forgotten it was there. It made Jack want to reconsider his decision not to pummel Agent Sang. "Patton, along with other great thinkers like Darwin, and Thomas Jefferson, were known for keeping a pocket notebook, a journal that they recorded thoughts and daily happenings. Patton even sketched and wrote poetry I think, along with his philosophy on battle."

"Officers must be made to care for their men. That is the sole duty of all officers," Jack recited one of his favorite life quotes, smirking when Mac shot him a confused look. "That's some good advice from Patton himself, probably pulled from one of his girlie diaries. You think whoever created the book we're looking for code-named it after Patton?"

"I guess it would be appropriate, seeing as how it would have potential to make someone a powerhouse in any number of battle fronts."

"Did you recognize any of the men doing the asking during your session with the other interested parties?" From what Bozer had told Jack, it wouldn't matter if Mac could ID the guys because it was a good bet they'd been killed in the blast Mac managed during his escape.

"The ones who worked me over were obviously hired muscle. Russian maybe. They were big and seemed to like their work." When Mac met Jack's gaze there was dread in the blue depths and Jack got the distinct impression his partner was getting around to the part he had warned Jack that he wouldn't like. "The one who asked the questions and directed the two goons stayed in the shadows, out of my line of sight. But I recognized his voice. I'm almost a hundred percent sure it was Briar."

Jack clenched his jaw. "Tell me you took that bastard out with the building you blew."

"He didn't stick around long enough." Mac glanced at his hands again, Jack following his gaze to the vivid bruises around each wrist. "When I didn't talk he grew bored I guess. Took off, but not before telling his friends to finish me and to make it hurt."

"Sonofabitch," Jack growled, pushing off the bed to stalk across the room. The only thing Jack did like about Mac's reveal was that it finally gave him a safe place to focus all his pent up wrath, a target that Jack didn't have to work with like Sang, nor one he considered a good friend such as Matty. He turned to start back towards Mac, no longer bothering to hide the murderous rage in his eyes. "I will fucking kill him! Forget the sniper's bullet I promised the sleazy bastard. I will do it slowly. Painfully. With my own bare hands. After I water board his ass for a few hours, maybe add some electricity just for giggles."

"Now that sounds more like the enthusiastic-somewhat scary- agent I have come to know," Sally said from the doorway to Mac's room. Either she had engaged stealth mode upon entering or Jack had been so caught up in his tirade that he'd blocked out everything but his plans for revenge. "Am I interrupting something?" She looked from Mac to Jack and then back. "Should I come back?"

"No." Both Jack and Mac parroted the word, although their follow up statements were vastly different.

"You should not come back," Mac said, setting his face in a petulant glower.

"You're not interrupting," Jack replied, rolling his eyes at his partner's child-like reaction. He waved the nurse in. "You can have your way with the patient. I was just leaving."

"Where are you going?" Mac disregarded his scowl for Sally, who had busied herself checking her computer, to offer Jack a flash of panic, fighting to sit up straighter. "Give me a minute and I'll come with you."

"Dude, I'm just headed downstairs, not south of the border," Jack assured. He glanced at his watch. "Director Weber was expecting me thirty minutes ago. I got the feeling she intends for the meeting to be solo, which is probably for the best."

"Less witnesses that way," Jack heard Sally mutter under her breath, the woman still pretending to be reading.

"Jack…" Mac started and Jack could see the worry replace fear in Mac's blue gaze.

"Dude, we just have a few things to clear up," Jack cut him off. "Then I'll be back around to get you so we can head to my place for some downtime."

"I'm staying at your place?" Mac's brow furrowed in confusion. He pushed the blanket off him, making another attempt to shift his legs out of bed.

"You are if you want our favorite nurse to keep her job." Jack flashed Sally a grin when she finally looked up, winking at her for good measure before turning back to face his partner. "And if that isn't motivation enough for you, there is all the delicious loot Nana Beth sent home with me. I figure by you staying with me, we don't have to share with Riley and Bozer. Besides Einstein and Henrietta have missed you."

"Is there cherry pie?" Mac spared a thoughtful glance to Sally as if passing up an opportunity to rid Phoenix of her presence was an incredibly hard one to turn down.

"What do you think?" Jack smirked, unable to resist reaching up and ruffling his partner's already rumpled hair.

"I think you're an ass," Mac growled, knocking Jack's hand out of the way, quickly covering the wince the sudden movement brought.

"Did you talk that way to Agent Sang?" Jack forced a smug grin onto his face, feigning normalcy in light of an outsider's presence. "No wonder he wasn't willing to face a tank and flamethrowers to rescue you."

"Boys. That's enough." Sally pushed her way between the two partners with the expertise of a well-practiced mother whose patience for horseplay and sibling bickering had reached its threshold. She gave Jack a little shove back, slapping him with the sling she'd brought. "Don't forget this on your way out, Agent Dalton." She offered him a bag. "These too, considering you know who is likely to conveniently forget them."

"You know who is sitting right here," Mac groused, his eyes searching out Jack over Sally's head as she went right to work removing his IV. He'd made it to a fully sitting position glancing around the room for what Jack would wager were his boots. "Do not do anything stupid without me."

"That's my line, brother." Jack pointed a finger at him to stay put. "It's not me that has a tendency to go lone wolf. You know me better than that."

"I do know you, Jack. That's what worries me." Mac gave a quick yelp when Sally's ministrations apparently turned unusually rough, giving Jack a chance to slip out of the room without further notice or comments. He pulled the door closed behind him just as Mac accused the nurse of not only hiding his shoes but hurting him on purpose.

His partner's accusation had Jack's temper once more kicking into overdrive, anger sending a surge of adrenaline through his tired body in a way that had him clenching his fist again, and grinding his teeth as he made his way to the elevator. He'd never think Sally guilty of such an action, but his partner's words had effectively brought thoughts of Briar back to the forefront. Mike Briar who had indeed hurt Mac. Intentionally. Purposively. Deliberately.

Jack had no doubt the sonofabitch had enjoyed it, too, having excelled in the CIA's enhanced interrogation program when they were there. The fact Mac was important to Jack probably made it all that much sweeter to the sadistic asshole. Jack's mission to find the bastard and return the favor would be every bit as calculated and destructive. She didn't know it yet, but Director Weber was going to make up for her albeit unintentional part by offering to do everything in her power to help Jack make sure Mike Briar came a very bad end.

To be continued…