AN: The final chapter! Thank you so much for sticking with me through this story guys. Especially these later chapters where it's been harder to get them done and published due to work commitments. I hope you're not too disappointed with the ending: I tried to do the story, and the characters, justice.

Reviews of the story as a whole are very welcome. Future advice would be really useful too. I may begin a new story when work calms down a bit... Let me know what you think of my first full foray in fanfic!

Chapter 10

"You're… going to… do… what?" Jack asked incredulously. Mac was trying very hard to remain calm, for the sake of his injured partner. Mac gently lifted Jack's bad arm, the one that had been both shot and dislocated that day, out of its improvised sling and rested it on the floor above Jack's head. Jack winced at the excruciating movement, but he was more focused on the information that Mac had just shared with him than the pain in his arm right now. Mac cut a hole in Jack's shirt, up near his clavicle, and tore it so that it was large enough for him to see what he was doing.

"I'm going to put this needle into your chest. Your lung has collapsed, that's why you can't breathe properly. There's air around your lung and I have to remove it. Some of it, at least." Mac was trying to explain it as calmly and plainly as he could but, in reality, he was almost as scared as Jack. He was not a doctor and he had never done this before. Mac had read about it on the internet, and researched the theory, but he had never actually done a needle thoracostomy before. He knew where to insert the needle, but the homemade syringe he had in his hand was less than ideal. "I don't know how long we have till help arrives, Jack, and I'm not willing to risk it. You're going to have to trust me, because I don't know how long you have."

Jack stared up at his partner and glanced at the needle in his hand. He seemed to be thinking through his options. "OK," Jack breathed heavily, his breaths becoming even more laboured, "I do… trust… you… Mac. I trust… you… with… my life… Do it."

Mac breathed deep and took one last look down the corridor. He wanted to check that help wasn't miraculously arriving before he took this last-ditch measure. He used the fingers on his left hand to gently find Jack's second rib space. He took the needle in his right hand and pushed it hard against Jack's chest. Luckily, the point was sharp enough and it broke the skin. Mac breathed a quick sigh of relief, but his friend let out a low rumble of pain.

"I'm sorry," Mac whispered, but Jack didn't hear him. He had his eyes closed and was trying hard to think about anything else but where he was, how much everything hurt and whether help was coming or not. Jack trusted Mac completely, but he was no fool; however much he might act it sometimes. He knew they needed to get out of here. Jack would very much prefer if he were alive when help arrived, or when Mac had thought of an ingenious plan to get them out.

Mac kept pushing the needle until it wouldn't go in any further. He pulled out the ink tube, that was now acting as the syringe, slowly and carefully, listening for the release of air as he did so. Thankfully, he felt and heard some of the air surrounding Jack's lung pull into the syringe and he saw Jack's chest begin to rise and fall ever so slightly more comfortably than before. His rudimentary syringe had done the job, but it would only delay the inevitable. This was in no way a permanent solution. It did, however, give Mac a little more time to think through his options and try and find a way out of this mess. Mac pulled the needle out of Jack's chest and used a piece of sheet that he had cut up to cover the hole and staunch some of the bleeding.

"Jack?" Mac put his other hand on Jack's forehead and felt the cold beads of sweat that had formed there. He nudged his friend gently with his knee, checking that the Texan was still conscious. "Jack, are you still with me, partner?"

Jack slowly and deliberately opened his eyes and forced himself to look at Mac. He wanted Mac to know he was OK. He needed Mac not to blame himself for what was happening. Jack knew Mac too well and he could only imagine the misplaced guilt that was going around his head at that moment. Jack's breathing had slowed slightly and, Jack had to admit, his chest didn't hurt as much as it did before. Everything else still felt the same, but at least he could breathe. "I'm still with you bud," Jack confirmed, before closing his eyes again as Mac lowered Jack's bad arm back onto his chest.

"I'm going to find us a way out of here, Jack, I promise." Mac said this to reassure himself as much as his friend. He sat back, leaning against the desk that had protected them from the blast. He closed his eyes and began to drift. The concussion he had received in the blast was slowing down his processing speed and he hated it. He knew there was an escape – there almost always was – but he couldn't quite piece the jigsaw together and work out the plan.

He must've lost consciousness because the hiss and beep of a walkie-talkie made him jolt awake. He listened as well as he could, but realised it was in Portuguese. For a brief second, he had forgotten where exactly he was, but he looked down at Jack, still lying on the floor in front of him, and it all came flooding back. The walkie-talkie was clearly giving instructions: the tone of voice communicated anger and frustration even if Mac couldn't understand any of the actual words. He pushed himself up into a crouching position and looked down the corridor opposite the door. Or at least, where the door used to be. The troops were getting into formation and following their leader closer to the room where Mac and Jack were trapped. Mac looked around instinctively to try and find a weapon or something he could use to help. There was nothing. All the bomb parts were blown up already and his pockets didn't contain anything that could help.

The leader of the advancing detail saw Mac's head appear above the desk and he let out a series of shots. Mac ducked quickly for cover. Thankfully, the thick desk held up against the gunshots, but the small but lethal militia were getting closer and closer. They had finally realised that the two American men had no second explosives, or even any deadly weapons to fight back. They had also worked out that Mac and Jack had nowhere to go. They had the upper hand in every respect and they were not willing to wait any longer. Another burst of gunshot rang out. This time some of the bullets hit the brick wall too and mortar dust rained down on Jack.

The sound of the second shots shocked Jack awake. He, too, had fallen unconscious again, very soon after Mac had. Mac grabbed Jack's collar and pulled him further behind the desk. The pulling made Jack grunt in pain, but Mac was more concerned with making sure they were both well hidden behind the little cover they had. Jack's head came to rest on Mac's knees and he looked up at his friend.

"None of this is your fault, Mac. And the fact that we're stuck here isn't either. I don't blame you for any of this." Jack took a moment to catch his breath but started talking again before Mac could protest. "I know what's going on in that big brain of yours, Mac. Neither of us could've seen this coming. Even Matty didn't have a clue it was all a trap. Iraq, Cairo, Los Angeles… if I'm gonna get stuck in a jam anywhere, I couldn't think of anyone better to be stuck with."

Mac chuckled solemnly, "Thanks Jack. I love you too, buddy."

Another round of shots rang out. One or two of the rounds found a weak point in the desk that was protecting them and pierced a hole right through it, a little way over to Mac's right. Mac looked at his friend but neither of them could think of anything else to say. They simply smiled and closed their eyes as another round of bullets were shot from another gun, even closer by than the last time. Mac and Jack heard the leader of the group bark a number of instructions in Portuguese and they perceived footsteps as the group organised themselves.

Then, all of a sudden, the noise stopped. The gunshots stopped, the shouting ceased, and it was replaced by a quiet, almost defeated, voice coming over the walkie-talkies of the soldiers. Mac had no clue what the voice was saying, but it seemed to be calling an end to the attack. The soldiers lowered their guns and stopped advancing. The leader of the group uttered one word in response. A word Mac did understand: "Compreendo."

The short silence that followed was broken by a very different voice. Mac listened carefully. It was an American voice, and it was speaking English. It was a very familiar voice.

"Matty!" Mac realised, and he shook Jack's shoulder as the awareness dawned. Jack didn't stir, though – Mac noted with relief – he was still breathing. Mac observed that the cavalry was arriving just in time. He wasn't sure how much longer Jack would be able to hold on. Matty's voice got closer and closer. She appeared to be ranting angrily about American rights and international government co-operation, but Mac's slightly jumbled brain couldn't quite make out the conversation fully. There seemed to be a man with her, who was occasionally answering her accusations with a very heavy Brazilian accent. An official, Mac assumed, from within the embassy. He seemed to have given in to Matty's demanding tone as his responses were very weary and humbled.

Suddenly, Matty appeared round the side of the desk and Mac distinctly heard her swear, though she uttered the word under her breath. "Hi," Mac said simply, "I'm hoping you've come to get us out of here?"

"This one is going to take a lot of explaining," Matty responded. "I'm hoping there's a good story or two here that I can use to help us, Goldilocks."

"Yeah, just a few," Mac answered, "but we need to help Jack first. He's not doing so good, Matty."

MAC2016 MAC2016 MAC2016 MAC2016

Jack woke up almost two days later in the hospital wing of the Phoenix. When he opened his eyes, he was expecting to be trapped in that stupid office with Mac leaning over him. He was surprised to see Matty's face instead.

"Um, hi?" Jack was not entirely sure where he was or how he got there, but Matty seemed to be smiling. This had a strange effect on Jack: it made him feel both safe and uneasy at the same time. "What's going on?"

"What do you remember, Jack?" Matty pressed.

"I remember been taken in the park, been beaten up by big, dumb Brazilian gangsters and placed in an empty office with a couple of bombs. I also seem to remember Mac sticking a big needle in my chest and some gunshots. How much of that really happened?"

"All of it, Jack, if Mac's version of events is anything to go by. It appears you've been through the ringer. How do you feel?"

"Crap."

Matty chuckled at his all-too-honest assessment. Her easy laugh made Jack smile, but he still somehow felt like he was in trouble.

"Are you here to tear me a new one?" Jack asked, too tired and in pain to beat around the bush anymore.

Matty visibly started and looked him dead in the eye. "Jack, I'm here to see if you are OK. We might not always see eye-to-eye," Jack scoffed at the understatement, but Matty continued, "but you are a great agent, Jack. You are loyal to a fault and, without you, Mac probably wouldn't have survived this long in the field."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure the opposite is true as well," Jack admitted, casting his mind back to the many times Mac had saved his ass too. "He saved my life on this one, right?" He wanted to confirm what he already knew to be true: he wouldn't have made it out of this one alive without Mac's help.

"That's true," Matty admitted. "You have a major concussion, two broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder and you had a collapsed lung. As well as a lot of other bumps and bruises from been beaten up and blown up. Mac most certainly saved your life. But," she continued, "he told me what you did, too. I know that you would die for that man, Jack. I know you would gladly give up your life for his; however, it got a little too close this time. Now, get better soon because we have some Brazilian terrorists to track down when you're fully recovered."

Matty got up off the chair beside his bed which, unbeknownst to Jack, she had been occupying for the last 12 hours, and turned to exit the room. Jack frowned at his boss's back, and then smiled, "Ah, Matty, I knew you cared really!"

Matty turned quickly and gave her operative a stern look. Jack lowered his eyes, expecting another reproachful reply. "Of course I do, Jack." Matty turned quickly and exited the room before Jack could even process her response.

Mac walked through the door while Jack was still reeling and saw his confused look. "You still concussed, buddy? You look like you're trying to remember your own name!" Mac walked over to Jack's bed and took the seat that Matty had just vacated. He looked his friend up and down. He made a mental note of the black eye; the bruised face and jaw and the large gash on Jack's head. He saw the chest tube coming out of his left side and the new sling on his left arm. The extent of Jack's injuries were less scary now that he was under the care of proper doctors, but Mac still couldn't quite believe what Jack had gone through to protect him.

Jack saw his young friend looking at each of his injuries and smiled to comfort him. "I've come back from worse, Mac. I'm gonna be fine," Jack reassured him, "thanks to you."

"I'm not sure you have been injured worse than this, Jack," Mac rebuked him, concerned, "but I'm really glad you're OK. You had me worried there for a little while."

Jack smiled but said nothing. Mac grabbed Jack's hand briefly and squeezed. He didn't have the words to thank Jack for all he had done to help him: either that day in the embassy, or any day before that. And he knew that Jack didn't really know how to say thank you in return, either. The friends settled instead for just smiling and nodding at one another. Looking out for each other was part of their job: it was what they did. However, a long time ago it had gone beyond a job and had somehow become a privilege. Neither of the men could pinpoint exactly when that had happened, but both of them were very glad it had.