A/N Okay, so... not the final chapter, after all. LoL I went a bit further with this one than I had originally intended. I'd like to say the next installment will be the last but, I don't like being wrong twice in a row - I like to learn from my mistakes! hehe So, how about we just play it by ear. I can't see it being much longer but, then again, who knows where my muse will take me. ;-)

As it turned out, Jay and Toby did in fact make it to a pay phone and called the police. The cavalry showed up with paramedics just a few minutes after Mac had taken the antidote. By the time all was said and done, MacGyver was unconsciously leaning more heavily into Jack. He was clearly at the end of his rope but the kid refused to go to the hospital. Jack huffed a laugh. No surprise there.

MacGyver hated hospitals.

Even though the paramedics said they were unable to find anything wrong with him, they still strongly suggested Mac return with them to the hospital, just until the lab was able to run their tests to ensure the poison was truly out of his system.

Jack agreed. MacGyver not so much.

Jack canted his head and the paramedics picked up on his request and stepped away to check on the other injured parties while Jack dealt with a stubborn, blond genius.

Seeming to just then realize that he was still pressed up against Jack's side, Mac pulled himself out from beneath the other man's arm. He would be able to plead his case a lot easier if he didn't appear so vulnerable. Thankfully, Jack didn't fight him because Mac wasn't at all sure that he'd have sufficient strength to fight the hold if he had.

Jack studied him with a critical eye and MacGyver averted his gaze, likely beginning to think perhaps he should have stayed where he was. "If we can find out what kind of poison was used, it might help us figure out who these guys are, or at least who they work for, before they're able to hurt anyone else."

It was a low blow tapping into Mac's tendency to put others before himself, and Jack knew it. But he had almost lost the kid once, no way was he going to take any unnecessary risks, especially now that the immediate danger was finally taken care of.

'I had the sneaking suspicion that I was being played. But I also knew that Jack had a point. If the combination of chemicals was unique enough, and could be linked to another case, it could very well be as good as a fingerprint to catch the mastermind behind this whole thing… before he's able to do this to someone else. Someone who might not have a Jack on their side.'

"Fine," the blond sighed. "But I am not staying overnight," he insisted.

"Don't make me promise that, Mac."

MacGyver considered him for a long moment, humbled to see the genuine concern and last remnants of fear in his friend's eyes. "Jack, I'm fine, really. But I get it, you need more than just my word on that. I just…"

"You just what?"

"I need sleep, man. It's been a long week."

Even though, Jack was pretty sure the last part of that statement was not intended to be voiced out loud, the honesty of the words, Mac finally acknowledging the fact that he wasn't indestructible, should have made Jack feel better. Only it didn't. All he could think was how exhausted the kid must be feeling for him to be willing to make that kind of admission. "Okay, how about this?" Jack began. "We get these friendly EMT's to take a vial of your blood to the hospital for tests, then we go back to the hotel room - the one that I booked and paid for, by the way, because you apparently found waiting room chairs to be oh-so-comfortable –"

"Trust me, I did not find them comfortable," MacGyver interjected.

"My point, exactly," Jack pointed out. "I got us a penthouse suite at a place called…" he pulled out his phone to check the text confirming the reservation. "The Prince George Hotel because I thought you would want your privacy after whatever mess I got you out of –"

"Wait, you got 'us' a suite? How is that privacy?"

Jack gave him a lopsided grin as he gently hauled the kid to his feet. "Oh, you ain't gettin' that much privacy, brother. I spent hours lookin' for you, I'm not letting you out of my sight for at least a week."

"Great," MacGyver sighed, watching as Jack briefed the paramedics on the plan and gave them his cell number in case there was, in fact, a problem with the blood tests. After they extracted the necessary amount of blood from MacGyver's arm, Jack gently hauled him to his feet. He was not happy about Jack practically carrying him to a nearby patrol car but forced himself to allow it because it was better than doing a face plant on the floor of the alley, out here for everyone to see. He suddenly remembered the nightmare he'd had at the hospital and knew that the stress of the past week and a half would probably mean many more just like it assaulting his sleep for quite a while. So, he had to try one more time. "Are you sure we can't get separate rooms - " but before the question was completely out of his mouth, the snide remark was coming back at him...

"I could take you to the hospital, instead."

"No, no," Mac quickly back-pedaled. "Hotel suits me just fine." Then, after a brief hesitation, he added, "Thanks, Jack."

"Oh, don't thank me yet. I'm gonna have a doctor on speed dial. Anything feels hinky and – "

"That's not what I meant."

"I know," Jack told him as he leaned him up against the patrol car and opened the back door.

MacGyver allowed himself to be manhandled into the car, then he remembered something Jack had said… "Hinky?" he asked, smiling despite his exhaustion.

Jack returned the smile, then closed the door and trotted around to the other side of the car. He gave the Officer their destination, then hopped in next to MacGyver. Thankfully, the officer knew the place because Jack had no idea where it was.

MacGyver had once again failed to mention one teeny, tiny bit of information – his ribs were hurting again, probably due to the added torment of the past several hours. But Jack already knew about that injury, so (technically) nothing had been withheld.

However, despite the returning discomfort, Mac still couldn't keep himself awake even for the short drive to the hotel. He pushed himself into the corner where door and seat met, leaning his head against the window, and settled in. It wasn't very comfortable, but it would due for the interim. But just as he was drifting off, he felt Jack's arm slip over his shoulders, and he was tilted in the opposite direction. He grumbled, trying to return to his original position. Jack just hushed him and ten seconds later he fell into a peaceful slumber.

Jack looked down at his friend, head resting on Jack's shoulder and chest. Less than two minutes in the car and the kid was fast asleep. Dalton knew that he had to keep trying to contact the Foundation, but his current list of priorities had a certain blond genius smack dab at the top. The patrol car pulled to a stop on a side street. Jack looked around in confusion. He'd thought with a room labelled 'Prince Suite' the hotel would've been a bit more posh than this.

As if reading his mind, the officer said, "This is the back door. Until we're sure the suspects in custody are the only ones we need to worry about, I figured it'd be best to err on the side of caution."

The fact that he hadn't thought of that himself was a testament to Jack's own exhaustion. "Good idea," he said. "Thanks, uh..." he realized belatedly he'd never gotten the officer's name.

"Name's Brian, and no problem."

Jack nodded, then glanced down at a still snoozing Mac, trying to figure out how he was going to get him up to the penthouse suite, when another thought occurred to him. "Hey, the kids…"

"They're gonna be fine. I got permission for my wife and I to take them in until something more permanent can be arranged. They're at my place now, likely being coddled by my wife."

"They're good kids. Saved my boy's life," he added, unconsciously snugging Mac a little bit closer.

"Yeah, I know. I've run into them before. Jay actually called me directly to come help you two."

"Really? He must really trust you."

Brian huffed a humourless laugh. "Yeah. As much as Jay trusts anybody." He indicated Mac, practically lying across Jack's lap now. "Your boy seems to trust you quite a bit."

Jack smiled but his gaze was serious. "It goes both ways."

"Kinda has to with family, don't you think?"

"Yeah," Jack agreed softly.

Brian got out of the car and opened the back door closest to Jack. "You need help with him?"

"Nah," Jack said. "I got 'im." He studied the sleeping form, trying to come up with a game plan. Ordinarily, he'd just toss the kid over his shoulder but that wasn't really an option with the injured ribs – which, he was willing to bet, Mac thought he'd forgotten about. Decision made, he started to back out of the car, gently pulling MacGyver with him. Once his feet were on the ground and he could get some leverage, he slipped one arm beneath the kid's knees, the other behind his back, then lifted with a grunt.

Brian had his hands out ready to provide assistance but, after a gentle jostle to get Mac's head resting on his shoulder, Jack was good to go. With a nod of approval, Officer Brian led the way to the back door, opening it for the former soldier and his precious cargo to enter ahead of him. He did that with every door and elevator all the way up to the suite and Jack was immensely grateful. Two arms full of genius made twisting door handles and pressing elevator buttons more than a little difficult. And getting a hotel key card out of his back pocket? Forget about it.

Performing one final act of kindness, Brian preceded Jack into the bedroom and drew the blankets back on the bed.

"Looks like you've done this before," Jack guessed, sitting MacGyver down onto the mattress, easing him back until his head was resting on the pillow, then gently lifting the long legs so that the kid was completely horizontal.

Brian shrugged. "I had to carry my teenage son a lot in the days just before he died." His eyes filled. "Leukemia," he revealed quietly.

Uncertain how to respond, Jack placed one hand on the other man's arm. "I'm sorry," he offered sincerely.

Brian nodded, then cleared his throat. "He looked a bit like Mr. MacGyver here."

Choking back a laugh, Jack said, "Don't let Mac hear you call him that. Just MacGyver will do."

With a watery grin, Brian nodded again, then left to return to his duties – while Jack tended to his.

He considered waking the kid but knew full well that his exhaustion wasn't just due to the past several hours. It was due to the past several days. If he roused him to get changed, no telling when that ginormous brain of his would slow down enough for him to go back to sleep again.

So, Jack set to work removing first the filthy shoes and grimy shirt, then the tan chinos that looked a lot darker than Jack remembered them being when MacGyver had left his hospital room… wow, had that really been just eight hours ago? Once he had the kid down to his boxers, he covered him up and looked for a place to sit. Spying an armchair over by the window, he dragged it over closer to the bed and made himself comfortable, settling in for the long haul.

Time to watch over his boy.

BANG!

MacGyver raced down the stairs, each step feeling like his feet were stuck in cold molasses. His heart pounded in his ears. With each exhalation, a choked sob escaped.

Not fast enough. Not fast enough. Not…

Suddenly, there at his feet, was Jack, curled in a fetal position, surrounded by a growing pool of blood. "Nooooo!" Mac's yell was swallowed up by the darkness closing in around him. He knelt beside his best friend, not knowing where to touch.

The Suit was suddenly looming over him, mocking him with a cartoon-worthy maniacal laugh that Mac may have found amusing under other circumstances. "Help him, please!" he begged, knowing his beseeching tone was pointless but needing to try anyway.

Before his eyes, the Suit morphed into El-Noche, lowering a Nitrogen mask down to Mac's face with a cruel leer. No! There was no time for this! He had to help Jack…

MacGyver tried to shove the mask away, even as his gaze moved down to Jack. But Jack wasn't there anymore. Suddenly, Mac was sitting down, wrists bound to the arms of the chair, ankles to the legs. The Nitrogen mask lowered toward him again. It morphed into a syringe. Then back into the mask.

It was pressed against his face, covering his mouth and nose. Instinctively, Mac held his breath, but a fist was shoved into his midsection! He doubled over, his body sucking in oxygen that his brain knew wasn't there.

He couldn't breathe! He was drowning! He vaguely remembered Jack coming to his rescue when this happened the first time. But Jack was dead.

Spots swam across his vision, preceding the curtains of black closing in.

Jack was dead. Jack was…

MacGyver jolted awake with a gasp, trying desperately to pull air into his lungs. As his ability to breathe returned, so did awareness of his surroundings.

Jack was sitting in an armchair next to the bed, eyes closed. He was so still. Renewed panic surged up in Mac. He kicked the covers off and jumped to his feet. Lunging for Jack, he pressed two fingers beneath the stubbled jaw... and breathed a sigh of relief. The pulse beneath his touch was strong and steady. He sat back on the bed with a thump, placing his elbows on his knees, resting his face in his palms.

'Breathe, MacGyver. Just breathe.'

Realizing his cheeks were wet with tears, Mac wiped at his face with his hands. In the same moment, he noticed his clothes folded neatly on the chest of drawers a few feet away and flushed with embarrassment when he saw that he was dressed in just his boxers.

Awkwardness notwithstanding, MacGyver couldn't help but gaze at Jack with acute fondness. His friend was alive and well, and he couldn't be more thankful. Mac had had many people come and go in his life for varying reasons, but Jack was one of the few who, despite everything, had stuck around.

"I'm not a kid and you are not my father." The memory of what he'd said to his friend on the plane came rushing back to him.

Sometimes, Mac wondered if he deserved to have a friend like Jack in his life. This was one of those times.

Feeling his eyes start to droop, MacGyver knew his exhaustion was setting in again. He looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand. Four am. Huh. Well, he'd gotten up earlier than that before.

Careful not to wake Jack, MacGyver got dressed and moved out into the main living area of the hotel room.

Usually, he would have started with vacuuming the living room, doing laundry, dusting. But the fact that they were in a hotel room negated the need for cleaning. So, Mac wrote a hasty note for Jack in case he woke up before his return, then slipped on his shoes and brown leather jacket.

After rigging an exceptionally elaborate security system over the door to keep out intruders, MacGyver stepped out to get a few groceries, ensuring he hung the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the door to prevent any unassuming room attendants from getting caught in his snare.

A bit of research on the phone that the police had thankfully retrieved from the Suit, revealed a 24-hour grocery store only a 30-minute walk away from the hotel. Mac didn't mind the walk, the weather was beautiful, even though the sun hadn't come up yet. Besides, he needed to clear his head.

With his security system keeping Jack safe back in the hotel room, MacGyver found his mind drifting back to Jay and Toby. He hoped and prayed that the kids were okay but knew that Jack would have told him if they weren't.

Along the walk to and from the store, even while he perused the aisles searching for the ingredients he would need, Mac failed to notice that he was looking over his shoulder, casting suspicion on everyone he passed. This hyper-vigilance was a common symptom of trauma, but MacGyver was in denial that he had even been traumatized, so why would he recognize the warning signs of PTSD?

Jack wasn't sure what had woken him but the sight of the empty bed before him set his heart pounding in his chest. He leapt to his feet, almost knocking the armchair over in the process. He took a breath to call out to his friend but, with MacGyver's name on his lips, he froze as the smell of a delectable cheese omelet assaulted his senses.

One of Mac's specialties.

Belly grumbling, Jack's heart returned to a regular beat as he made his way out to the kitchen. After all, he hadn't eaten solid food since before getting on the plane after the mission that had deposited them into the mess of the past week. And, as far as he was concerned, the IV nutrients the good doctors had given him didn't count.

If he couldn't taste it, then it wasn't real.

MacGyver stood in front of the stove, sprinkling more cheese on the omelet already oozing with melted cheddar and mozzarella. The green peppers, onions, and mushrooms sizzled away, and the scent of his secret spice mixture wafted through the air. Cooking Jack's favourite breakfast was such an effective distraction from not only the events of the past week or so, but also from the night terror that had woken him just a few short hours ago, that Mac even found himself whistling.

On his trek to the kitchen, Jack hesitated when he saw the conglomeration covering the main entry way. Giving the contraption a double take, he continued to the kitchen where he was surprised to find MacGyver in good spirits, if the upbeat tune he was whistling was any indication.

"Mac?"

The startled jump belied the outward appearance of contentment, however, and Jack's Spidey-senses went into overdrive as he suddenly figured out what the apparatus over the front door was supposed to do.

"Mornin', sleepy head," MacGyver crowed, pushing his 'I am totally fine' routine to its limits. But Jack wasn't buying it. No way could the kid go through what he'd gone through over the past week and be 'fine'.

"Good morning," Jack said carefully, not missing the fact that MacGyver had yet to turn around and look at him. "Whatcha doin'?"

"What does it look like I'm doing, Jack? I'm making breakfast."

As his sleep addled mind caught up with him, Jack glanced around at the items on the counter – a carton of eggs, milk, onions, mushrooms, rainbow peppers, and various spices. An empty wrapper sat next to them; he could only assume that had been for the cheese. He and Mac both liked lots of cheese in their omelets.

Jack watched MacGyver place an omelet onto a plate and anxiously waited for the opportunity to achieve eye contact with the kid. His hopes were dashed as Mac turned to hand him his plate but kept his gaze busy darting about the kitchen, as if ensuring he wasn't forgetting anything.

"Have a seat," the blond said absently, gesturing toward the table in the dining area.

"What about you?"

"I'm not hungry," Mac informed him. "Besides, this is all for you."

Jack's eyebrows arched at the admission. "What's the occasion," he asked. "My birthday isn't for another few months."

"You saved my life, Jack. This is my way of saying thank you," he muttered, using a damp cloth to clean the stove and then the counter around Jack's plate.

"Since when do you think you have to thank me for that, Mac? It's my job, remember?"

The flinch and the blush happened simultaneously, caught only due to Jack's keen senses with anything MacGyver-related.

"Pretty sure you went above and beyond the call of duty this time, man. Seeing as I don't remember anything after getting into that cop car, yet I woke up safe and sound in bed."

"You're not as light as you look, brother," Jack told him with a smirk, trying to ease his friend's embarrassment.

Mac paused for a moment, still not making eye contact. "I'm not sure whether to take that as compliment or insult."

"The former," Jack said. "No, wait, the latter," he amended, wrinkling his brow in confusion.

"You're playing dumb on purpose," the blond accused. Knowing that Jack was trying to cause him to stumble into unwanted eye contact, Mac steadfastly avoided it because he also knew that Jack would use that contact to get a far too accurate read on his current state of mind - which, Mac was pretty sure, would be scarier than a Stephen King novel in those moments.

"Who, me?" Jack queried with false levity. He was concerned about his young friend, but he also knew he'd have his work cut out for him this time and he wouldn't be any good to Mac if he didn't eat something beforehand. "Fork and knife, please?" he requested.

"Oh, yeah, sorry," MacGyver replied, words coming a little too fast for Jack's liking. The kid reached into a nearby drawer, then placed the silverware on the counter next to Jack's plate. Still, without looking up. Not even for a second.

Mac continued cleaning up the kitchen, putting the omelet ingredients into the fridge, wiping off the counter. He heard a groan of delight from behind him.

"Mac, this is delicious! I've never been so happy for Patty's attention to detail."

"Huh?" MacGyver asked distractedly, putting the frying pan into the sink and running hot water into it.

"Having the hotel contriage do a grocery run for us. That woman is good at what she does, I'll give her that. I never even told her where we're staying yet."

"I think you mean 'concierge', Jack," MacGyver corrected, squeezing some dish detergent into the pan.

"Whatever," the ex-commando said, waving his fork in the air dismissively.

"And Thornton didn't arrange for the groceries. I went out and got them myself."

The clatter of the fork falling to the table was Mac's only warning and his mind was so sluggish, even that didn't have him turning before he was spun around none too gently, two hands gripping his upper arms in an iron-like grip, and found himself staring into the astonished and angry gaze of Jack Dalton.

"You went out there alone? Are you crazy?" the older man growled.

Mac tried to pull free from Jack's grip but there was absolutely no give. "So, I went out to get a few groceries. What's the big deal?"

"Are you kidding me? For the smartest guy in the room, you can be awfully stupid sometimes!" Jack tried to rein himself in, but it wasn't working, until he saw the stricken look on the kid's face. He forced him to take a deep breath, releasing MacGyver in the same instant. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Jack insisted.

MacGyver backed away from him. Was that fear in his eyes? Jack didn't lose his temper often but when he did, it never elicited fear from the kid. If anything, MacGyver would be more likely to get angry back. Then the two would laugh it off and go have a couple drinks together. Two friends knowing that it was just the stress of a mission gone wrong.

Raising his hands placatingly, Jack tried to explain. "We don't know that those guys last night were the entire organization, Mac. There could be more out there looking for you. And… I – I can't…" he turned away, scrubbing his hands across his scalp, wishing his hair was long enough to get a grip on. How could he have done that? MacGyver had just suffered trauma upon trauma over the past week, and here he was inflicting even more on the kid.

He braced both hands on the kitchen counter, his head hanging forward in shame. He shouldn't have been surprised to feel the strong grip of Mac's hand on one shoulder, but he was.

"I'm sorry, Jack. I wasn't thinking. I just needed to get out, clear my head, y'know?"

Jack nodded, he understood that completely. He turned around, his tentative smile freezing before it had even fully formed.

"What?" MacGyver asked. "What's wrong?"

"How much sleep did you get, kid?" Jack asked him, focusing on the dark circles beneath the tired blue eyes, the unusually mussed hair.

Knowing how haggard he appeared, Mac instantly lowered his gaze, turning away from his friend, only to have his efforts thwarted by one hand on his arm and another coming up to grip his chin, forcing further eye contact. MacGyver focused his gaze on an empty spot on the wall over Jack's shoulder. "A bit," he whispered.

"Hey, look at me." When the kid didn't comply, Jack repeated himself, his tone leaving no wriggle room. "Look at me."

Mac did as he was told, his eyes filling with tears he refused to let fall. "You died." He hadn't meant to say it out loud but there it was. He closed his eyes to shut out the humiliation he felt.

"Hey!" was all Jack had to say to have the eyes flick open and lock with his once again. "Good boy. Now, what do you mean, I died? I'm right here, kiddo."

"I know," MacGyver admitted, squirming in Jack's hold. He hated heart-to-hearts, especially when the broken one was his own. "But in my dream…" his voice trailed off to silence.

"Tell me."

"It's stupid."

"You know, as well as I do, PTSD is common after trauma, Mac. And sometimes all you can do is talk about it. Maybe even shed a few tears. But it is far from being stupid, brother."

"You're absolutely right. PTSD is not stupid. But that's not what this is."

"Really? So, that door with one of your homemade security systems isn't you being hyper-vigilant? How about on your walk to the store, were you looking over your shoulder the whole time? Thinking every person you passed could be an enemy?"

Mac looked at the door, then thought back on his journey to and from the store. He had been looking over his shoulder a lot, had tensed every time someone passed him or, worse, came up behind him, but - "That's not…" he began. His voice trailed off again as the truth hit home.

"And, correct me if I'm wrong here, but I'm guessing this 'dream' of yours was actually a night terror."

The blond pulled away again. This time, Jack let him. For now. "So, what if it was?" he demanded, walking to one side of the room and back again, like a caged animal. "What are you gonna do, Jack? You can't protect me from my dreams, man! I'm the only one who can do that!"

"Who says?'

MacGyver turned truly confused eyes on him but didn't pause in his pacing. "What?"

"Who says I can't protect you from your dreams?"

Mac laughed humourlessly. "Whatever, Jack."

"Hey, I'm Captain America, remember?" The question was asked with a toothy grin that made MacGyver wince.

"They weren't supposed to tell you that," he muttered softly, hand moving up to the back of his neck in a nervous gesture.

"Yeah, I kinda figured."

"I can't sleep, Jack. I won't."

"I get that you think you can't, buddy, I do. But believe me when I tell you… you will sleep."

"Jack – "

"No, you can't just decide to not ever sleep again, man."

"I don't mean ever. Just until I get past what... just until I get past this mission."

Jack studied him a moment and remembered something that was said back at Jay and Toby's apartment. "This night terror you had, did El-Noche make an appearance at all?" He made sure to pronounce the name right this time because he didn't want to give Mac a way out of this discussion. As expected, the kid stopped pacing and stared at him, eyes wide as saucers.

"How did you – ?"

"You said his name in your delirium last night."

MacGyver resumed his pacing. This time, more to avoid eye contact again than to work off nervous energy. "So, what's your point?"

Inserting himself directly into the kid's path, Jack said, "My point is, if El-Noche is still entering into these night terrors, then maybe your compartmentalizing isn't working as well as you think it is. Sometimes you just need to let yourself feel what you're feeling, kid."

Mac shook his head emphatically, eyes filled with dread and a bit of fear.

"You're thinking if you let yourself feel, you'll turn into a blubbering mess, I get it. And you're probably right."

"Thanks, Jack. Nice pep talk." MacGyver moved to continue his precious pacing but Jack sidestepped him, effectively blocking him.

"At first," he told him. "But I'll be sure to put Humpty Dumpty back together again. I promise."

"Great, now you're comparing me to an anthropomorphic egg."

"An anthropomor… stop tryin' to distract me. Now, do you want to sleep, or not?"

"Not," MacGyver answered a little too quickly.

"I'd hate to tell Patty that you're not mission ready."

"You wouldn't dare," Mac challenged.

"When it comes to you bein' safe out in the field, you better believe I would, buddy!"

The blond sighed, knowing he'd been beat. "Fine, I'll sleep." He headed back to the bedroom but turned suddenly when he sensed Jack following him. "Where are you going?" A little trace of fear entered his mind at the thought of Jack leaving the hotel room… and dying.

"With you. We discussed this already."

Now, a whole new fear coursed through Mac's veins. He wasn't really planning to… "Discussed what?"

"Me protecting you from your nightmares," he told him with exaggerated patience before gripping the kid's shoulders and turning him back toward the bedroom.

"Jack, this really isn't necessary," MacGyver insisted, scared of what he might say or do if he had another night terror. The last time, his face was soaked with tears.

"I beg to differ," the older man returned, gently shoving Mac into the room. He pointed to the bed. "Sleep."

Mac watched as Jack sat down in his armchair again, pulling out his phone and accessing a game app.

"You're just gonna watch me sleep?"

"No way" Jack replied, feigning offense. "That would be creepy." He held up his phone. "I'm gonna play Bejeweled."

Mac still hesitated, gaze moving from the bed, to Jack, then behind him to the door.

"Don't even think about it, brother. You know darn well I could catch you on the best of days. And today is not one of your best days."

Knowing Jack was right didn't stop Mac from continuing to consider the door as an available option.

"It's just you an' me here, buddy."

That had MacGyver's attention whipping back to his friend.

"You trust me, right?"

"With my life," Mac said without hesitation.

"Right back at ya, buddy," Jack replied with a tender smile. "Now, sleep. Please."

Finally, the blond slowly kicked off his shoes and crawled onto the bed. He lied on his back for all of about 10 seconds before getting up again. "See? I'm not tired."

Sighing, Jack halted him with a hand on his arm. He directed him back to the bed, pulled the covers back, then gently but firmly applied pressure to the slender shoulders until the kid was sitting down again. Much like he had the night before, he eased Mac back and lifted his legs onto the bed, then covered him up. Forcing himself to refrain from actually tucking him in, Jack retook his seat in the armchair.

For all his fear of Jack watching him amidst a nightmare, Mac suddenly found himself terrified that his friend would leave him alone. His alarmed gaze locked onto Jack.

"I'm not goin' anywhere," Jack promised, as if once again reading his mind. "Just close your eyes, kid. Go to sleep."

Jack could kick himself for letting his guard down earlier. He was supposed to be watching the kid's back and had fallen asleep on the job! Well, not this time. He was going to be there for his little blond genius, whether the kid wanted it or not.

The game of Bejeweled had been solely for Mac's benefit. As soon as he'd fallen asleep, Jack had put his phone away and focused on what mattered.

He sat up straighter in his chair when the kid in question started twitching and murmuring in his sleep.

TBC