Guard Your Heart
By: Ridley C. James
A/N: Finally, the next chapter is here. I'm so sorry that I took time to let the muse roam, but hope you enjoy this long update. Thank you to all those who reviewed! Forgive me for not getting back to everyone individually. I will try my best to finish this off in the next couple of weeks. Fingers crossed! My ever vigilant beta, Mary, gave this a quick go-over from her vacation paradise in Iceland, improving my ramblings greatly with her talented touch, but all mistakes are mine. A shout out to the awesome Gib who provided me intricate knowledge of satellite coverage, as always so willing to share and help out seeing as how I am quite clueless about all things technical.
RcJ
"Tell me again how Nobel arrived this morning, presumably after me, and he already has established possibly two houses on the island?" Jack had slid his night vision goggles to the top of his head, glancing to Steve who was lying beside him on the forest floor still looking through his rifle scope at the house they were scouting. It was enough to bring a rush of déjà vu, ironically from their original recovery of Jonas, Operation MOD. "If Jerrys Intel is right both these places were rented weeks ago by different people, neither of whom have records or any outward ties to Nobel."
"You heard Hammond, he lost track of Jonas after the overthrow of that village." Steve turned to look at Jack. "We don't know he didn't set his whole plan in motion during that time. If he has the resources we think he does, he could have easily pulled this off. These two rentals fit the grid that Hammond's team mapped, and they both were acquired through enough backdoor channels to send up flags in the database."
"Subversive renting or not, Jerry hasn't been able to find any other trace of the Stoddard alias coming onto the island before this morning." Danny pointed out, from his position on the other side of Steve. Jack was beginning to appreciate the man's ability to play devil's advocate on most any subject. "Of course if Nobel wanted you all to know he was here this latest visit then he might have used such an obvious alias on purpose. He could have been more covert the first time around."
"I'm guessing after he shot Mac he didn't care if we knew where he was headed since he'd already told me as much in that little clue he left." Jack looked again through his own scope. The house was dark except for the lone porch light, there were no vehicles in the drive, nor was there any signs of a motorcycle. Thoughts of his sick partner, the way he'd left Mac, had him itching to get inside. "Is the other team ready to move?"
"Any word on Chin's position, Jerry?" Steve asked his computer tech and they all heard Jerry's reply through their coms that Chin's team was in place and ready to make their own sweep on the other suspicious property.
"Tell them it's a go, and we're heading in." Steve stood, gesturing for Jack to take point. He'd bring up the rear.
They spread out as soon as they made it to the house, Jack circling his way around as Steve and Danny stayed in the front. Once at the back door, Jack skimmed the frame for any signs of wires. It would be just like Nobel to plan a little surprise. He slid his rifle around to his back, pulling the Glock from his thigh holster as he tried the handle on the off chance it was unlocked. Luck would have it that it was. Of course, luck may have had nothing to do with it.
"My door's unlocked. You boys good or is there a B&E in your future?" Jack spoke softly, waiting for Steve's reply before entering.
"The front's open, too," Steve's voice came clearly. "Almost like someone was expecting us."
"Come right in said the spider to the fly," Jack muttered, knowing this could all be one huge set up. Any chance of finding Nobel or the cure for Mac was worth the risk. "I'm Oscar Mike. See you boys inside."
"Did you not get my memo, Dalton?" Danny's irritated hiss brought a smile to Jack's face as he carefully opened the door, using the flashlight attached to his gun to shine on the floor before he took a step over the threshold. He wouldn't deny he'd purposefully used the military slang to annoy Steve's civilian partner. A guy had to keep somewhat of a sense of humor about these things, especially when the stakes were this high. "I specifically said no pretending we were on some kind of Delta meets SEAL Team Six reunion mission. That will only invite trouble."
"Is he always this chatty on Ops?" Jack asked, nodding to Steve who'd just entered the front of the house and who he could now see across the room. "Hammond's face is probably three shades of crimson right about now with all the senseless squawking."
"I've got muddy boot prints," Steve said instead of answering Jack's question. He knelt down to get a better look. "It doesn't look fresh."
"This is not, I repeat not an operation," Danny continued, clear annoyance easy to pick up in his tone. Jack shook his head, remembering the detective's vehement reaction when Jack had suggested they call this current outing Operation Re-MOD-el. He'd found it clever. Danny obviously not so much. The man was as much a joker as Director Thornton. "Even hinting at such is bound to set us up for some kind of disastrous encounter including guns and rogue militia, possibly even grenade launchers."
"I see he's experienced more than one of your campaigns, Smooth Dawg." Jack flashed a grin, having been on the bad end of some of Steve's missions himself.
"How about you cut the chatter, Tombstone," Steve piped up, signaling for Jack to move to the hallway directly in front of them, before he disappeared to the left and Danny moved toward the rooms off to the right. "I'm going to follow the mud trail. You two split up and I don't want to hear from you again unless it's a sit rep."
Jack snorted when Danny muttered under his breath at Steve's pointed use of lingo before starting down the hallway. He found the tight space curious and wondered if narrow halls were an island thing. Jack checked each room, one of which was a bathroom, the other two bedrooms. Both beds were still made, no clothes in either closet he checked. No suitcases or other items stored beneath the beds, and more importantly, no bad guys. The linen closet held only the most rudimentary supplies, no personal items included. Even the toothbrushes were still in plastic wrappers. The place was as tidy and impersonal as a vacant hotel room.
"I'm all clear here," Jack reported to Steve as he worked his way back down the long hallway towards the front of the house.
"Same," Danny responded, his voice getting closer.
"I may have a something." Steve came across tense, raising Jack's hackles.
"What sort of something, Steven?" Danny asked, as he and Jack met up in the middle and the detective motioned for Jack to proceed him into the kitchen where they assumed Steve had made his discovery. "Decomposing body of the person who didn't wipe their feet? Landmine? Don't leave us hanging?"
"A door," Steve responded, vaguely.
Jack was the first to enter the kitchen. He swept his flashlight around the spacious, open area not seeing Steve. He frowned, not liking losing visual. "When you say door did you mean a magic portal to another dimension, brother? Because you're pretty much MIA."
"There." Danny panned his light onto the refrigerator at the other end of the room. It had been slid out from the wall.
"How the hell did you find that?" Jack shook his head as he took a look around the appliance where Steve stood in front of a half-door.
"Footprints stopped." Steve panned the entrance with his flashlight, bending down to get a good look at the latch. "What do you make of this, Tombstone? This whole wall seems to be reinforced concrete?"
"And you're first thought wasn't the guy might have come to the fridge for a beer?" Danny shook his head at his partner, spouting off before Jack could get a good look at the entrance and give his impression. "Of course your warped mind just automatically went to 'there must be a hidden passageway'?"
"The refrigerator is empty, Danno," Steve explained, slightly exasperated. "There were no footprints out of the kitchen and no signs of the boots or the person wearing them. I extrapolated from the evidence."
Jack moved around Danny,crouching beside Steve. "Are you thinking some kind of vault?"
"How Sherlock Holmes of you," Danny continued his rant. "Maybe the guy took the boots off and carried them out with him on his way to get groceries?"
"Maybe a bomb shelter," Steve said, thoughtfully. He ignored his partner, locking gazes with Steve. "This house is from around the 1950's."
"Aren't those typically buried underground?" Jack wrapped his knuckles against the concrete, wincing when Dr. Cunha's fresh butterfly bandages gave a sharp twinge.
"You're forgetting we're basically a volcano, brother. Solid rock, or as the locals call it Blue Rock. It's not made for basements. We're talking major explosives, which means a hefty bankroll just to put a pool in the ground."
"Which is why my partner uses the ocean as his lap pool every day," Danny huffed. "He'd rather face blood thirsty sharks than come off with any cash."
"I guess there's only one way to find out." Jack gestured to the latch on the steel door. "I'm not seeing any wires, I say we open her up."
"By all means, lead the way." Danny snapped at Jack as Steve slid the bolt lock and gave the door a hard push. "You, who seems completely nonplussed by this nefarious turn of events."
"In the desert, it's common for Taliban and Iraqi forces to use secret passages and tunnels." Jack grimaced as his light caught the remnants of a spider's web. He didn't bother to add that in his experience good things never awaited at the other end of said passages and tunnels seeing as how Danny appeared already against the idea. Jack's mind instantly went to Helmand, the tunnel he and Landry had used to get to Mac. He swallowed thickly against the onslaught of unwelcome memories. "On a good note, it typically means there's something worth finding inside."
"As I have reminded you and the Super SEAL many times before, this is not the desert!" Danny growled. "Jerry, if you're reading this, please note that I am going on record as saying the discovery of a secret room is never a good turn of events and it is against my better judgment that we are entering the temple of doom."
Jack rolled his eyes when the computer guru responded with a 'duly noted'. It really was a miracle Hammond hadn't taken over Jerry's job, the only explanation was that the general was more than likely running communications with the other team.
"He's claustrophobic." Steve said as if that explained his tightly wound partner's obvious dislike of what Jack would consider a lucky break on their part.
"I doubt if there are any clowns hanging out in there, Dude." Jack shot the detective a sympathetic grin. "We're more likely to encounter rats. Which I hate, right along with mice, raccoons, possums." He shuddered. "In fact, I'm not big on anything that squeaks and has a tail longer than its body."
"The fear of clowns is Coulrophobia, you idiot." Danny glared at Jack. "Claustrophobia is an intense dislike of tight, enclosed spaces."
"And by dislike he means a crippling terror." Steve arched a brow at his partner, gave a crooked grin. "You're welcome to stand watch out here, D."
"And leave you two on your own?" Danny shook his head. "Just the merest imaginings that thought conjures is more horrifying than belly crawling through some snake hole."
Steve shook his head in exasperation, but went first followed by Danny who Jack noted took a deep breath and looked a little pale as he knelt to follow after McGarrett.
Jack supposed Danny was grateful that although the entrance was indeed narrow, the room within was not. It opened up to generous space, at least for a hidden room, which explained the need for the very narrow hallway Jack had experienced on the other side of the house.
When Steve flipped the light switch the room was bathed in an eerie fluorescent glow, a row of long metal lights making it look every bit like every bit the bunker Jack recalled having seen in history books. The walls were lined with shelves, holding cans of various sizes. There was a metal bookshelf built into the wall, a desk and a long folding table shoved against the far end, along with two bunk beds.
"So I'm guessing your theory about this place belonging to one of the paranoid residents from the Kennedy error was right on the money," Jack said, Spidey senses on full alert. Despite pulling the door closed, and knowing there wasn't a place someone could hide, he had an eerie feeling they were being watched, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. He swept his gaze around the room, keeping his gun at the ready just in case.
"Or maybe just a desperate mom who needed some time away," Danny added, stopping by the bunk beds. "That is if she had a strange fashion sense when it came to footwear. I found your missing shoes, Holmes."
Jack looked to where Danny nudged a pair of muddied biker boots. He could also see a shirt and pair of jeans tossed on the bed. Steve, who had made his way to the desk didn't bother to turn around. Instead he was studying the wall over the desk.
"What have you got?" Danny crossed the room along with Jack, who backed his way there as he continued to cover the entrance.
"Looks like our theory about Nobel being here pans out." Steve pointed to a collage of photographs taped to the wall. "He's been watching us for weeks."
Jack glanced over his shoulder, catching a few shots of Danny and a young girl, which Jack assumed was Danny's daughter. It looked as if they were at a school. There was several of a little blond boy and Steve at the beach, another of all four of them along with Chin and Jerry at Kamekona's food truck, but the pictures that claimed Jack's attention completely were the ones of Mac. They were from LA. Some were taken when his partner was out for a run, a few others in front of Mac's house, and ones of Mac and Jack outside Jack's home, one of them and Bozer leaving their favorite pizza dive. It was hard to miss the red bullseye slashed over Mac's face in each and every one.
"Sonofabitch!" Jack's temper sparked, the fact he'd been oblivious to such an imminent threat hard to accept even when confronted with undeniable evidence of his failure.
"Why leave the pictures?" Steve asked suddenly, looking around the room again as if they'd missed something blatantly obvious, after studying the perimeter he looked from Jack to his partner. "The set of clothes, but nothing else that suggests this is his home base. No work station, nothing he'd need to make the chemical he used on Mac. We've seen Jonas set up a lab, he's detailed and methodic."
"One thing's for sure, I doubt we'll find any antidote here." Danny spoke what Jack didn't want to even think about. He reached up and pulled one of the pictures of him and his daughter down from the wall, his face as grim and determined as Jack had seen it. "Maybe he used the other location, too? Chin and the Delta duo may have had better luck."
"Or maybe he's just messing with us." Jack knew it didn't make sense that Jonas would have rented two places, and highly doubted he'd ever used this one for anything more than a decoy. He nodded to where Danny had taken the picture down. The empty space revealed what could very well have been a bottom loop of what looked like a letter, and off to the right there was a small drilled hole-just the right size for a camera. Nobel was watching them. "Take them all down," Jack growled.
Steve holstered his gun and began to help his partner pull the pictures from the wall. The message beneath was scrawled in bright red like the bullseye drawn over Mac's face. BOOM. Jack's heart was thundering as he read the script, adrenaline pulsing, priming his body even before Steve had finished revealing the complete word. He could picture the wicked grin on Nobel's face, almost hear his laughter.
"Damn it." Jack swore, already turning to start for the entrance. "We need to…"
He didn't even get the warning out of his mouth before his memories of Helmand were suddenly and vividly brought back to life. The massive blast, although muffled by the thick concrete walls echoed around them with all the ferocity of a direct strike. It sounded as if a speeding train had just struck the shelter. Jack felt the room shift beneath his feet, lurching so that he nearly stumbled. The floor swayed, the house groaning and shrieking as if were a living thing and being torn asunder from its foundation, or possibly, and more than likely, completely obliterated around them. Instinctively Jack dropped to a crouch covering his head the best he could just as the row of lights bolted directly above him shook free from their mooring. The old bunker was instantly showered in an array of bright sparks then swallowed up by darkness. There was an instant of blinding pain and Jack found himself for the second time that day seeing a vivid myriad of stars that had nothing to do with the destroyed lights. Then his world, like the room, went completely dark.
RcJ
"Jack!" Mac bolted from sleep into a sitting position without any conscious effort. The move brought a sharp assault of pain, making an unpleasant awakening even worse. He gasped for breath, finding the action more struggle than it should have been.
"Easy, Mac." Bozer's voice had Mac blinking hard to orient himself, focusing on slowing his racing heart so he could actually take in some air without hyperventilating.
"Bozer?" The room was fairly dark, the warm light from a lamp across from them providing limited sight, but Mac could make out the shape of his friend hovering close by, just out of striking distance. It was a sad fact that his roommate had learned the hard way not to physically wake Mac from a nightmare, at least not without a good fighting stance. Mac raked a shaking hand over his face, hoping to erase the last traces of the dream he'd been having. "Where's Jack?"
"How about we talk about you for a minute?" Bozer moved closer, taking the chair that was pulled next to the couch Mac was lying on.
"What…" Mac took another breath, the dull ache in his shoulder and overall fuzzy feeling in his head answering the question he was about to ask Bozer. The events of the last twenty four hours came rushing back, including the meeting he'd had wit Hammond and the others, as he looked around the basement office. For a moment he'd let himself believe all of it had been a nightmare and he was at home in LA. Mac cleared his throat, once more grounded in reality. "We're in Hawaii."
"I wish I could tell you we were here for a much needed vacation, but …." Bozer inched closer. "How are you feeling?"
Mac opened his mouth to reflexively give his pat answer of 'I'm fine', but realized the ridiculousness of such a statement as a groan escaped him when he tried to move his legs to the side of the couch. "I'm hanging in there. Where's Jack?"
"Your fever's up again." Bozer once more dodged Mac's question, pointing out a blue compress that was lying in Mac's lap. Mac picked up the damp cloth, figuring he must have dislodged it when he'd broken free from the nightmare he'd been having. "Dr. Cunha said you should drink some of the lemon grass oil concoction Melissa sent as soon as you were awake."
Mac continued to stare at the compress, the gold NAVY lettering prompting him to meet Bozer's gaze. "After I see Jack."
"Jack's fine." Bozer took the cloth from Mac and returned it to a bowl of water that was sitting on the floor. "You, on the other hand, not so much."
Mac wasn't in the mood for redirection or mother-henning, no matter how well-intentioned. He gave maneuvering his legs over the side of the couch another try, intent on finding his partner himself if Bozer insisted on being vague.
"What are you doing?" Bozer asked incredulously as Mac succeeded in making it to his feet, albeit with a bit of breathless cursing and nauseating swaying.
"I'm going to find Jack." Mac couldn't explain why he desperately needed to see his partner, but he was pretty sure it had something to do with the dream he'd just had. The one he'd had many times before in the past six months, often after a close call on a mission, or when his defenses were worn down. It was the nightmare where he didn't diffuse the bomb set by The Ghost when Jack had triggered the pressure plate, the one where Mac's brilliant plan to remove the bolt that would disarm the explosives went terribly wrong and he was forced to watch Jack be consumed in a firestorm, Mac as helpless as he'd been when Pena died.
Sometimes Jack was close by when Mac awoke from that dreaded alternate reality. Times when Mac had been hurt, or when they'd been returning from a mission. If he wasn't, Mac had shamefully reached out to him, no matter the hour of the night. Jack always picked up, never once giving Mac grief for the lame excuses he pulled from thin air for calling.
"Jack's gone."
The words stopped Mac cold, effectively accomplishing what the weakened state of his body had not. He sat back down on the couch, his gaze locking with Bozer's. "What do you mean he's gone?"
"Shit, Mac. Not gone, gone," Bozer must have sensed the effect his careless response had garnered, possibly reading the fear and trepidation Mac knew was reflected on his face. Bozer put a hand on Mac's shoulder, offering a reassuring squeeze. "He went with 5-0 and your buddies from Afghanistan to find Nobel."
"When?" Mac once more made it to standing. Bozer holding out a hand like a parent might for their toddler's first teetering steps. "Why didn't he wake me up? I could have gone… "
"Because I told him to leave you alone." Bozer gripped Mac's arm as he swayed. "And there was no way Jack would have agreed to you going. What part of very sick do you not get, Mac?"
"Why would you do that?" Mac pulled away from his roommate, almost falling over. He was glad for the filing cabinet which spared him having to get up out of the floor. Bozer was possibly right about Jack not being up for Mac joining in on the mission, but he would have liked to have had the chance to argue his point. It would have at least given him a chance to clear the air, to maybe at least say he was sorry, for what he wasn't sure, but the all too familiar nightmare had left him with a desperate need to make a mends with his partner.
"Oh, I don't know, maybe because I thought that's what you wanted. I don't know what Jack did, but you were pretty clear on the whole 'I need some space' message," Bozer replied, his fingers making quotes in the air. "We both know Jack's not the most perceptive guy when it comes to subtle subtext. He doesn't even get anvil dropped on his head kind of hints now that I think about it."
"I was mad…" Mac raked a hand through his hair, realizing that although he was still angry at the lies, it was more important that he clear the air. He frowned at Bozer. "Wait. Jack listened to you?"
"I wouldn't' go that far. In fact, he didn't take my suggestion all that well, going all Bruce Banner to Hulk in a flash. I thought he just might toss me through one of the glass walls, might have followed through if his scary SEAL friend hadn't intervened. What is it with these Special Forces guys?" Bozer gave Mac a steady look. "I know you love him and all, but I think he might need some anger management classes, a course in communication wouldn't hurt as well."
"You started it," Mac muttered, rubbing his temples as a vague memory surfaced. Jack had told Mac as much. Or maybe that had been a dream as well.
"Excuse me?" Bozer looked surprised, and a little hurt. "I was trying to have your back."
"I get that." Mac sighed, knowing he wasn't being fair to Bozer. He'd made his beef with Jack more than clear. Bozer hadn't heard Jack's side of the story. "But I don't need your protection, especially from Jack. He would never hurt me." The 'not intentionally' was left unsaid.
"My recent experience is telling me that might not be completely true." Bozer folded his arms over his chest. Mac felt the sudden urge to defend his partner.
"Jack's heart is always in the right place." Mac knew Bozer had not had the easiest time adjusting to all the nuances that his learning the truth had brought about recently. Accepting that Phoenix was not a think-tank but a network of spies was only the surface piece. Delving deeper, Bozer had to learn to accept that the people he thought he knew and understood were very complex individuals, capable of doing things he'd never had to face, or even imagined. All the areas that were once black and white had faded to a murky gray. But one thing was clear. No matter what, they were, and always would be family. "He does what he does out of love."
"Which is why I will eventually forgive him for tossing me around like a rag doll." Bozer favored Mac with an exasperated half grin. "I should have known better anyway, sticking my nose where it didn't belong. The whole Starsky and Hutch, Han Solo and Luke Skywalker dynamic is your and his thing. Besides, it wasn't like the man was going to listen to what I said. He came down here after Jerry and I were gone for dinner." Bozer pointed to the blue cloth floating in the bowl of water. "I figured he was the one who thought of the cold compress."
"Jack just wants to keep me safe." Mac ran a hand through his damp hair, realizing the bits and pieces of one-sided conversation he'd thought he might have imagined having with his partner earlier were probably real. He wasn't sure if he should be angrier that once again Jack had taken off without waking him or grateful for the fact his partner was stalwart in watching over him, even when Mac had made it very clear he didn't want him to.
"Then maybe you should make his job easier for him and sit back down." Bozer glanced at his watch. "Dr. Cunha will be back anytime and besides saying we should get the lemon grass in you as soon you were awake, she said you should rest as much as possible."
"I'll take the lemon grass," Mac was willing to compromise to a point. After all, he recognized that a raging fever was not going to do anything but put him out of commission quicker. Lying back down on the couch was more tempting than he was willing to admit, even to himself, but his desire to be even minimally involved in bringing in Nobel was more demanding. The mission came first. "But I want to go upstairs and see what's going on. Did Jack and Steve get some kind of lead on Nobel?"
"Hammond had some information about two possible rental houses," Bozer replied with a shrug. "They weren't exactly up to including me in the discussion, but it seemed they were splitting into teams to check both places. Jerry and the general are monitoring communications."
"Do they have visuals?" Mac as Jack's partner was charged with watching his back. No argument or misunderstanding altered that priority. If nothing else, the last vestiges of the dreaded dream demanded Mac at least see for himself that Jack was indeed fine.
"Jerry's got satellite views of the houses, but it's dark so I'm not sure how much that's going to help." Bozer grabbed the vial of the lemon grass concoction offering it to Mac. "I know they have coms going because Jack checked in on you when they made it there."
"When was that?" Mac asked, accepting the bottle to squint at the handwritten directions. He used one hand to rub at his eyes hoping the blurred vision was only a result of his having only awoken a few moments before. When the words remained indecipherable, he gave the bottle back to Bozer. "You'll have to tell me how much to take."
"Not more than fifteen minutes ago." Bozer answered Mac's first question, his frown deepening as he glanced from the bottle to Mac. "You can take half the vial in a glass of water, every four hours."
"If you help me make navigate the stairs I will take my medicine without even complaining about the taste." Mac wasn't as steady as he would have liked, and he was pretty certain if his body had rebelled at walking down the small stairway, it was going to be more than painful to climb them. He could already feel the sweat on his brow from staying upright.
Bozer rolled his eyes. "You know being your friend is sometimes like parenting a five-year-old."
"I don't understand why you and Jack share this delusion that you're the grown-ups in this family, when it is obviously me and Riley." Mac bit back on a gasp as Bozer took one of his arms and slipped it over his shoulders.
"Speaking of Riley," Bozer ignored Mac's comment, starting them towards the door of Jerry's office. "She called while I was on my food run with Jerry."
"You didn't…" Mac began, only to have Bozer cut him off.
"I told her Jack surprised us with a trip to Hawaii." Bozer shot him a glance as they made it to the base of the stairway, which suddenly looked as steep as some of the hills Mac ran in the canyon. "It's not exactly a lie, and there's the whole bonus where Riley is pissed at Jack for choosing to spring for a vacation when she's out of town. He's going to owe her big time."
"I'm sorry I had to put you in that position." Mac understood it wasn't in Bozer's make-up to be dishonest, especially to one of their own. "But knowing Riley she'd get Thornton to fly her down here and the last thing we need is to put someone else we care about at risk."
"I'm starting to accept the whole need for shading the truth to keep someone safe."
"Accepting something and liking it are two totally different things." Mac knew if he looked logically at what Jack had kept from him, he'd be forced to realize his partner was doing for him, just what Mac had done for Bozer. Jack had been shielding him. Mac understood. He did. But that didn't make the secrets seem any less of a betrayal, and it didn't change the fact Mac was hurt by the truth that Jack had kept things from him. Just as Bozer had been hurt by Mac's deception.
"What did Jack lie to you about?" Bozer stopped at the top, letting Mac catch his breath.
"He's still in the Army." Mac closed his eyes for a minute, trying to get his breathing under control. When he opened them Bozer looked worried and a bit confused.
"I thought he got out the same time you did?"
"You and me both." Mac nodded to the door they needed to go through to enter the hall outside Five-0's main office. "Long story short, he stayed in longer so he could get me out sooner."
"Damn." Bozer started them forward again, using his free hand to pull the door open. "I was hoping it was something that I could get pissed about, maybe even justify me holding onto my hurt pride a little longer. Now I'm going to have to apologize for calling him a selfish jerk."
"You called Jack a selfish jerk?" Mac hesitated once they were in the hall. His head had resumed the steady pounding, and his legs were once more doing their imitation of Jell-O.
"I know it wasn't the smartest move on my part," Bozer explained, when Mac shot him an incredulous look, which he obviously mistook for concern for his welfare when in actuality Mac couldn't believe his best friend had misjudged Jack so completely. "Don't worry. Hammond's already given me the whole 'you're crunchy and taste good with ketchup, son' speech and Chin Ho tossed in a reminder not to poke a tiger."
"I was thinking more about the whole point of Jack being one of the least selfish people I know." Mac wasn't sure Bozer and Riley truly appreciated Jack's part on the team. Maybe it was because they hadn't been in the field with him, like Mac, who even after all the years his partner had watched his back, sometimes found it easy to take for granted that Jack was willing to sacrifice his life at any moment for any of them. "Jack gave decades to the Army, time away from his family, from his father when the man was dying, all so he could serve his country, to defend freedoms you enjoy every day, Boze. He's the only reason I made it back in one piece. You get that, right?"
"Most days I do," Bozer nodded, looking slightly contrite. "I appreciate him more than I can say. But then Jack does something entirely Jack and I forget."
Mac started to open his mouth to refute that logic, but then realized he couldn't. He was guilty of the same thing. "Maybe we both should work harder on remembering."
"As long as you pull through this, I can promise to do that." Bozer gave Mac a half smile. "That is after I give our boy Jack the cold shoulder for a while and withhold all his favorite foods, including my amazing French toast, and there's no way I'm ever making him a cup of coffee again."
"How very passive aggressive of you," Mac returned Bozer's grin, albeit a bit shakily, knowing his roommate would not hold out long before capitulating to Jack. When they finally made their way into the inner sanctum of Five-0 headquarters, Jerry was at the computer table, his eyes glued to the screen above. Hammond was on the other side with his back to them, cell phone pressed to his ear. Curie lifted her head, tail wagging as they approached.
"Commander McGarrett, do you read?" Jerry was speaking as Mac and Bozer reached the table. He raised an eyebrow at the two newcomers but didn't say anything about Mac's appearance.
"What's happening?" Mac glanced up at the screen, blinking to clear his vision. He saw a slightly blurry satellite image of a house visible through a break in the heavy tree coverage but no visible movement that indicated either team.
"Something's interfering with our communications." Jerry glanced at Mac, his worried frown deepening. "One minute our connection was fine, but now it's like the signal has been completely blocked. I can't get anyone to respond."
"Have you tried their cells?" Bozer asked, still keeping a hand close to Mac.
"Commander McGarrett said to stick to coms until they've cleared the house." Jerry gestured to Hammond. "The General is talking to Chin because they found no trace of Nobel at their location."
"They did, however find a very disgruntled celebrity." Hammond put the phone down, shooting Mac a frown. He either knew there was no point in reprimanding Mac for disobeying doctor's orders, or was too wrapped in the current mission to make an issue of it. "The governor may be issuing a formal apology considering the man had apparently taken great means not to be discovered by his adoring fans which explains the red flag his duplicitous manner of renting the house sent up."
Bozer snorted, looking from Hammond to Mac. "I'm going out on a limb and guess that getting accosted in the middle of the night by scary-ass men in full combat gear and night vision goggles is worse than a full-on Paparazzi blitz. Take it from someone who's experienced a surprise home invasion, he's bound to be pissed."
"I told Chin and our boys to head to Team One's location," Hammond continued, looking up at the screen, his thin brows drawing together in a dark look. "I don't have a good feeling about this."
Mac was about to suggest Jerry disregard McGarrett's orders for cell communication when a bright flash filled the screen above. The entire view washed out for a few brief moments. Mac's heart slammed against his chest, a tight band of dread wrapping around it, stealing Mac's breath.
"Now what?" Jerry grumbled, tapping the computer table, wrongly assuming they'd experienced another interruption in signal.
"No, no, no," Mac muttered stepping closer, understanding the truth. His eyes locked on the screen where an all too familiar scenario was playing out. Hammond reached out and gripped Mac's arm when he swayed, the general also seeming to realize what had just taken place.
"We're back," Jerry said when the image momentarily cleared.
Mac was unable to take his eyes off the three dimensional object that had been the house as it appeared to spread out 360 degrees, the surrounding trees moving out from the blast range like a wave. It happened so fast that anyone not familiar with seeing explosions from an aerial view, a structure leveled via satellite footage, would have missed it. Mac held out hope that he was wrong, that maybe his mind was playing tricks on him, some weird side effect of the poison. That lasted right up until the dust cloud from the building materials being pulverized plumed above the site, effectively blinding them once more.
"No!" Mac shouted, half lunching, partly staggering towards the screen as if he could actually do something to stop or effect what was happening. Life had taught him all too well how things changed in a shock-filled second. For instance, it was possible for a son who had only known security, to find himself an orphan, unsure of everything and everyone in one faulty breath. A scholar who had always kept his firm footing in knowledge and his foundation in time-proven theories, could stumble, unravel, becoming completely undone in the time it took for an IED to obliterate the fellow soldier standing just ten feet from him. Then there was the fact that in a blinding flash, either from gun or in this case a bomb, a man could find himself alone, stripped of something, someone, which made him whole. "Jack," he gasped.
Hammond's hold tightened. "Steady, son."
"Mac, what's wrong?" Bozer demanded, his eyes moving from Mac to the big screen and back. "What's going on?"
"What was that?" Jerry echoed Bozer's dismay. His fingers flew across the table in an effort to cause some sort of change. It was a labor Mac understood to be useless until the cloud of debris dissipated on its own. By then the image of the house would be a very different one. Carnage would lay in its wake.
The structure, no matter its construction would be rubble, water pipes would be severed, shooting geysers, insulation floating in the wind. If there were natural gas lines, which Mac prayed there wasn't, pipes would become fire breathing dragons, shooting flame lengths as much as fifteen to twenty feet high. He felt his knees weaken, threaten to buckle, at the precise images his mind conjured, his knowledge of such destruction undeniable and painfully unavoidable. Mac would have explained, would have cast blinding light on the situation for Bozer and Jerry but it was taking all his energy just to breathe, to keep himself from giving in to the panic that was trying to claw itself from the pit where Mac locked every terrible thing he'd seen and done and survived.
"Jerry, patch me into the officer in charge at the PD that Steve had on standby," Hammond ordered.
Mac vaguely heard Jerry mutter a 'yes, sir'. Hammond waited for Bozer to come alongside Mac before he released the grip on his arm, picking his cell up from the table. If Mac had been on location, this is where Mac would have made a break for the house despite those who'd undoubtedly try to stop him, he would have charged into the bowels of hell to save his partner. Thoughts of Pena rolled through his mind, taunting how inexcusably helpless he'd been to extricate his CO from a blast that took place a short distance away. Jack was unreachable. Still, every single instinct Mac possessed thrummed, demanding he act, his body visibly quaking with the need to do something.
"Mac, you're shaking," Bozer said softly, tightening his grip on Mac's arm. "Are you okay?"
"I don't understand what happened to the satellite feed?" Jerry's voice sounded muffled like he was speaking underwater, or trapped in a barrel. Mac wanted to scream at him. How could he not realize by now that a bomb had destroyed everything? "I understand we could have lost coms because of the secret room they found, but…"
"Wait. What?"Mac asked breathlessly as a faint spark of hope pierced through shock. He blinked, coming back to himself, his mind calculating possibilities, pulling out of shutdown mode. "What did you say?"
"I asked if you were alright?" Bozer answered, only to have Mac shake off his grasp.
"Not you, Boze." Mac turned to Jerry, ignoring the nauseating listing the room took at his movement. Hammond had stepped away, speaking quietly into his cell, although Mac still caught the words big ass explosion. Mac hoped he was talking to Chin and Pauley, that they were in route. Pauley would know what to do on scene. Mac would focus on the new lifeline he had just found in Jerry's proclamation. "What did you say about a secret room?"
"Commander MacGarrett discovered a bunker just before I lost communication. They thought it was some something from the Kennedy era, you know a bomb shelter," Jerry explained. "They'd just gone in, against Danny's wishes, when you showed up. I guessed the thickness of the concrete was why I lost coms but that…"Jerry waved at the screen where a mass blocked their view, "I'm not sure."
"That," Mac gestured to the screen, his other hand gripping the table for support. "Is a blast site. Ground zero."
"A bomb?" Bozer's voice quaked, eyes widening to saucers. "As in the house just blew up?"
"Yes," Mac turned from his roommate, not able to deal with the mirrored devastation that would no doubt come when Bozer processed that Jack and the others were in the house. Instead he stared at Jerry, which was bad enough considering the man's eyes were as expressive as Curie's. "Did you say bunker? And that it was made of concrete?"
After a moment where Jerry seemed to compute what Mac had just told them, and then impressively gathered his wits about him, he nodded. "Like the ones from the fifties, when everyone was afraid of an attack on American soil."
"Mac," General Hammond must have caught the tell end of their conversation. "Could our boys have survived that blast if they were in a bomb shelter?"
"I don't know what type of explosion it was, possibly a propane blast considering it would be hard for Nobel to get his hands on materials to create much else, especially if it was short notice," Mac ran both hands through his hair, frustrated that his usual quick mind was struggling to extrapolate possible outcomes from unknown but likely parameters. He blamed the poison, his emotional state not helping the process. He took a breath, hoping to clear some of the fuzz and looked at Hammond. "If the bunker was constructed of a concrete of sufficient thickness, had enough corners, the adequate change of directions to buffer them from the blast shock wave, it's likely the room would hold and they'd been spared the worst of it."
"Pauley," Hammond barked into the cell he was still holding. "We think our guys might have been hunkered down at the time of detonation. This is now a rescue mission. Get your asses there, ASAP. I want a sit rep as soon as you're on site. HPD should arrive right after you."
"You sure they were all in there?" Bozer asked, his desperate gaze going from Jerry to Mac and then back.
"I know they were," Jerry nodded, confidently. "I lost coms and thermal on all three."
"That's good, right?" Bozer was focused completely on Mac now, nodding his head slowly, willing for Mac to reassure him. "You said Jack and the others would be alright?"
"My God…" Jerry's breathless exclamation had them both looking up at the screen where enough of the cloud had cleared that they could once more see images from the keyhole satellite they were using.
"Is that the house…" Bozer asked, hand going to his mouth in stunned disbelief.
Ground zero was just as Mac imagined. Obliteration. He squinted, rubbed his eyes roughly before studying the circumference of the blast zone. Mac followed the invisible diameter, bisecting it with the radius, praying to find something still standing. "There." He pointed to the center of the ruin, where a dimensional object was still recognizable beneath the devastation, pushing through the wreckage like a lone shoot of grass in a wasteland of ice and snow. "The bunker's still intact."
"Well, I'll be damned," Hammond let loose with a slight laugh. "Leave it to those bastards McGarrett and Dalton to stumble into the perfect fox hole in the nick of time. God really does suffer fools and children."
Mac knew they weren't out of the woods yet. There was no guarantee that just because the bunker appeared to be whole in the infrared image, didn't mean that it wasn't damaged, or that the men inside had withstood the force of what was equivalent to momentarily being battered by the force of a Tsunami. He understood how cruel and cutting hope could sometimes be, but Mac had always found it preferable every time to the alternative. He gave Hammond a shaky grin, his knees feeling weak. "Good thing for us Jack often fits both those descriptions."
Hammond squeezed Mac's shoulder, a real grin splitting his typically somber face. "We wouldn't have our boy any other way."
"We should get going," Mac gestured to the door intent on getting to the scene to help in any way he could. He did himself no favors when he tottered as he started forward, having to grip the table once more for support. "I want to be there when they pull them out."
"I don't think that's a good idea, Shepherd." Hammond glanced at Bozer who had once more moved closer to Mac. Hammond's mask of confidence slipped, revealing his worry that the outcome might not as good as he hoped. Curie whined, bumping her body against the general's legs. "You're not in the best shape to be going out in the field and if…."
"The General's right, Mac. Jack wouldn't…" Bozer started, but one glare from Mac had him closing his mouth, lifting his hands in surrender."I know. Not my call."
"I'm going." Mac didn't care if someone had to carry him, he was not sitting on his hands while Jack could be hurt, or worse. "With or without you." He rubbed a hand over his forehead, willing the persisting headache to go away. "'I'll take a taxi if necessary, but I'm going to back up my partner."
"Chin and the others just arrived," Jerry's voice broke the standoff. He gestured to the screen when all eyes went to him. "HPD is right behind them."
Jerry had split their view, the aerial shot showing both the house and another image of the road leading into the secluded area. Mac could make out five vehicles moving swiftly. At the house, he watched Chin and the others exit their cars.
"Get coms up with them, Jerry," Hammond ordered. "I want you to relay everything to me, and me only." The general tapped his ear, a move that Mac knew meant he wanted to filter whatever news before relaying it to Mac. Mac would have taken objection, requested his own com if not for the fact he had a feeling that would have been pushing his luck as the general's hard gaze zeroed in on him. "Both you and the civilian will stay with me and out of the way, you will also do whatever the hell I tell you to do, Mac, just like the old days, when you were actually scared of me."
"I was never afraid of you," Mac lied, his mouth twitching slightly. "But I think I remember how to fake it."
"Smart ass," Hammond grumbled, pointing a finger at Curie. "Stay with Jerry, girl. Daddy's going to work."
They were only fifteen minutes into the drive when Hammond received word from Jerry that Steve, Danny and Jack were all three alive. Mac breathed easily for the first time since waking from the nightmare.
"It's all good, Mac." Bozer reached over the back seat, squeezing Mac's shoulder. "Jack pulled off his own Die Hard scene."
"I still want to go to the site," Mac insisted, despite the pounding in his head having picked up cadence. He fought off a shiver, feeling cold once more. Bozer had mixed the lemon grass in a bottle of water, but Mac had found it hard to drink with his stomach so unsettled. Still, it was not enough to keep him from seeing for himself that Jack was in one piece. The look Hammond shot him as he continued to listen to Jerry on the two way had him once more on the edge of his seat.
"What's wrong?" Mac instantly picked up on the general's hesitation, the stiffness in his clipped voice as he told Jerry to keep him informed. "Hammond?"
"You were right about the integrity of the bunker holding. They're all three out, a bit shaken up, but Steve and Jack are taking a run to the hospital."
"Why?" Mac demanded. "What aren't you telling me?"
"Damn it, Shepherd." Hammond gripped the steering wheel, sending a glower to Mac. "Contrary to what you believe everything that comes out of my mouth isn't a half truth. This isn't like Iraq. I'm not withholding intel in some kind of conspiracy." He ran a hand over his bald head, letting lose with a huff. "Jack took a hard blow to the head, but he was awake, alert enough to relay he didn't want you leaving headquarters and he sure as hell didn't want you in that disaster area where you'd be out in the open when Nobel could be anywhere. Steve sliced his hand pretty good. Williams is going to ride in with them. I'm guessing they're all still doing a lot better than you, and they just had a house annihilated around them."
"Jack and I have a rule about hospital runs." Mac folded his arms over his chest, doing his best to ignore the wave of dizziness that overtook him. "We don't do them alone."
"You and Jack are two hard head sonsofbitches," Hammond bit out.
"What hospital?" Mac refused to budge. He'd been set aside for the alleged sake of his own good enough and refused to be shelved away yet again. Far from a child who needed protection, Mac had proven himself time and again, especially to the equally stubborn general driving.
"How the hell should I know?" Hammond snapped irritably, gesturing to the dark road before them. "This is Hawaii not D.C. Hell, I could navigate the mountains of Afghanistan better than this island."
"Bozer," Mac turned in the passenger seat. "Call Jerry, find out where they'd take them. Get him to send us the closest route there."
"What happened to the deal we had about you listening to me?" Hammond growled, slamming his hand on the steering wheel.
"We never made it to ground zero, so I consider that null and void." When the general narrowed his gaze and flashed Mac an incredulous glower, Mac added a contrite "Sir".
"Did I ever mention how you and Dalton are cut from the same damn cloth?"
"Maybe one time or twenty." Mac was still pissed at Hammond, not quite as willing to give him the benefit of the doubt as he'd been with Jack. Mac trusted Jack without question, even if he'd lied about the missions, he understood Jack's intentions. As much as Mac wanted to believe the general was complicit to merely cover for Jack, he wasn't quite convinced the man hadn't used Jack's determination to save Mac from the ravages of Afghanistan to his own advantage somehow. Memories of Jack being held captive and tortured in Iraq cast a long shadow. One thing Mac didn't' doubt, however, was that Hammond genuinely cared for the men under his command. Thinking Steve and Jack had been killed, even if for a few moments, had to have had an effect on the man. Mac shook his head slightly, pulling himself free from his thoughts. "We both know you want to check in with them, too. If I remember right, Jack and I aren't the only ones with a rule about hospital visits."
"They're taking them to Tripler, Mac," Bozer spoke up from the backseat. "Their ETA is like ten minutes. Ours about thirty. Jerry's sending the address to your phone."
"You planning on commandeering the vehicle, son?" Hammond shot Mac another frown. "I'm not even sure you could drive in your current condition."
"I'm guessing I won't have to, or are you taking orders from Tombstone now?" If nothing else, Mac would play to the general's hubris.
"Plug in the damn address." Hammond growled, gesturing to the SUV's navigational system. "But when Dalton goes ballistic, it's all on you, kid."
"Like that scares him," Bozer huffed. "When it comes to Jack if I'm a crunchy thing dipped in ketchup that fire breathing dragons like to devour, Mac's the stuff that makes them roll over and expose their belly for a nice scratch. That's on a good day, throw in that he looks like he's been run through the mill a couple of times and he's practically the dragon version of catnip."
Mac pretended to ignore his best friend as he punched in the address for the hospital. He needed two tries before he had the whole address right – his hand shaking too much. Before the entire mess with Nobel, Mac might have easily agreed he was one of Jack's soft spots, perhaps even conceded under pressure that he had a great deal of sway when it came to his partner, but never once had he truly considered himself a weakness in Jack's armor, something that could cause him to let down his guard or a pawn to be used against him in the worst possible way. It had Mac's head spinning worse than it had been already, the nausea that had plagued him since waking, steadily increasing.
"You alright there, Mac?" Hammond's voice had gentled, his face losing all signs of anger as he glanced at the younger man who had slumped back in the seat, his adrenaline fed energy suddenly waning in the wake of knowing Jack was alive and not in immediate danger.
"I'm good." Mac knew the general didn't buy it, the look of genuine concern proof he was holding back on what he really wanted to say. Mac managed a half way decent grin. "But I'll be better after I give Jack hell for getting himself blown up-again."
"This tops the Humvee incident." Hammond grunted, shooting one more side glance Mac's way. "You sorted him out just fine then. I'm sure you'll do the same this time."
Mac nodded, resting his head against the cool glass of the passenger window. The only thing Mac wanted to sort out was the way he and Jack had left things earlier. He'd almost lost the chance. Mac wouldn't make the same mistake again, not when he was carrying around a ticking time bomb of his own, one he had a feeling he wouldn't be lucky enough to find shelter against.
It was thoughts of fixing things with Jack that kept him on his feet, pushing through the desire to just curl up in one of the chairs in the waiting room. He had refused Bozer's help, insisting to go alone when the nurse agreed, after Hammond intervened, to take him back to the examination area where Jack was being treated.
"Hey." Mac tried to keep the immense relief from showing on his face as he made his way into curtained off area where Jack was sitting on a table. His partner looked up, a mix of surprise and then irritation coloring his expression.
"Mac?" Jack started to move from the exam table but Mac held up a hand to stop him, continuing his way into the room with a great effort to make it seem far from the struggle it was. He felt new sweat breaking out on his forehead, his heart hammering in his chest with the added struggle to stay upright. "What the hell are you doing here? Where's Bozer?"
"Aren't you the one who has been trying to get me to agree to a hospital visit?" Mac offered a tentative grin, which was preferable to the grimace he wanted to make when he caught sight of the spectacular bruising that bled from Jack's hair line to the right side of his face. "Although I have to say getting yourself blown up is bit of extreme measure to get your way."
"Funny." Jack's face remained serious, his eyes giving Mac a scrutinizing once over. "I told Hammond to let you know I was fine, for you stay put. Steve wouldn't let me come back to headquarters without at least getting my head checked out by a real doctor this time."
"Hammond told me what you said, and then I told him he we had a rule about hospital runs." Mac gave Jack a pointed look, feeling somewhat satisfied when Jack gave a slight nod, knowing he couldn't deny their long ago pact. "Either he isn't exactly up to arguing with me at this point or working in Washington has worn him down. What did the doctor say, by the way?" Mac gestured to Jack's face. "You look scarier than usual."
"Hammond feels guilty, which I'm totally for you using to your advantage, but you should save the payback for something better than this." Jack gestured to the bruising on his face. "This is not as bad as it looks. Really. It's nothing, dude. Surface damage. A set of lights shook loose from the ceiling in the explosion and got the drop on me. I'm just waiting on the X-rays to come back so I can clear out as soon as the doc releases me." Jack's eyes narrowed as he studied Mac's pale face. "But since you're here, maybe you should…"
"What are you wearing?" Mac chose to focus on the strange shirt Jack had on instead of the potential argument he saw brewing in his partner's concerned gaze. He crossed his arms over his chest, hoping it looked more casual than him just being cold.
"This?" Jack gestured to the image of the smiling man on his shirt, his face still serious, though a slight grin twitched at the corner of his mouth. "This is Hawaii's own Renaissance Man-Kamekona. He's a terrible physician, but I hear he makes some mean shrimp, although I am yet to taste any of his culinary delights."
"That shirt pretty much makes any future comments you might have about my choice in wardrobe null and void. You get that, right?"
"Hey, it was either this or be a walking billboard for the Navy." Jack arched a brow. "What would you have done, brother?"
Mac grimaced. "I would rather wear a shirt with Kamekona's nether regions on it than advertise for Navy."
"That's my boy." Jack gave a genuine smile, which eased the knot of worry coiled in Mac's stomach enough that the one he returned didn't feel so forced.
"The compress makes sense now. I appreciate your improvising." Mac held Jack's gaze, biting back on the fact Jack could have woken him up, at least told him about going after Nobel. If things had gone another way, the last words they spoke would have been angry ones.
"We both know there's not much I won't do for you, brother-lie, steal, kill a few people. Playing nurse is nothing." Jack glanced away, hitched one shoulder. "Hell, tearing up McGarrett's shitty shirt was just a bonus." He ran a hand through his hair, wincing when it seemed his fingers brushed over a tender spot.
The mention of the lengths Jack would go to for Mac had his smile disappearing, some of his strength fleeing. He hoped the fact he had to lean on the examination table looked like the casual move he tried to pull off.
"It seems Nobel was playing with you." Mac glanced at Jack, one hand rubbing absently at his pounding temple. "Pauley reported back that the blast came from a 5 gallon propane tank in the garage. It was enough to take down the house, but not destroy the bunker. It was a remote detonation. He waited until he knew you were all inside."
"It didn't feel so much like playing from where I was sitting." Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. "I thought for sure we were goners as soon as I saw the camera and read his message."
"Message?" Mac quirked a brow, his eyes meeting Jack's.
"Boom." Jack rolled his eyes, his fingers curling into a fist. "Nobel never was very creative, except when it came to chemistry, crazy bastard."
"He wanted to make it plain that you needed to do what he said, and not try and work another angle."
"He's already made the fact that he's holding all the cards pretty damn clear to me by poisoning you. I was just hoping we might get a lucky break and get the antidote earlier than what he had in mind." Mac tried to look better than he felt as his partner studied him once more. "How's the fever by the way?" Jack didn't wait for Mac to answer, taking the opportunity of Mac's proximity to reach up and press the back of his hand to the younger man's brow.
"It's gone down some."Mac answered elusively, though he didn't duck his head quick enough. His partner's brows drew together when his fingers brushed against heated skin.
"Damn, Mac. Down from what? Hot enough to fry an egg on your forehead?" Jack pulled his hand back, new worry on his face.
"I hear you had a go-round with Bozer?" Mac didn't want to waste time on his current condition. He rubbed a hand over his eyes, hoping to clear away the black dots at the edge of his vision. It was taking great effort on his part to keep his mind off of what was happening in his body, especially with the constant headache making it hard to focus on little else, and he didn't need Jack worrying about it anymore than necessary.
Jack smirked, though he gave Mac another once over, giving a shake of his head at the obvious redirect. "Bozer's a tattle-tale."
"Let me guess," Mac turned, propping a hip on the table, removing some of the burden from his weak legs feeling a bit like heaven. "Bozer started it?"
"Mostly." Jack glanced down at the floor then back up at Mac. "I might have let some tension and stress from the last couple of days bleed off in an unfriendly way, but there was no bloodshed so I'd say I showed unusually good restraint, at least for me."
"I appreciate that you didn't kill him." Mac was only half kidding. Bozer had been luckier than some men Mac had seen back Jack Dalton into a corner. "I'd hate to break in a new roommate after all these years."
"I figured as much." Jack sent a sidelong glance Mac's way. "I've already messed with our friendship enough without kicking Bozer's ass. I'm sorry as hell about that, by the way." Jack's eyes locked with Mac's glassy ones. "I know how you feel about the whole trust thing. Messing with your head is the last thing I'd want to do. "
"Jack…" Mac started, seeing his opportunity to set the record straight between them. He opened his mouth to continue but suddenly the words were stolen, not by his usual hesitancy to have any deep conversations about his feelings but by the sharp, stabbing pain that suddenly lanced through his skull and would have assuredly dropped him if Jack hadn't sprung from the table, catching him as his legs gave way.
"Mac!" Jack gripped Mac's shoulders, trying to keep him upright. His voice was panicked.
Mac barely registered the pressure on his arms, or his partner's struggles to keep him from the floor. He couldn't see because he'd squeezed his eyes against the unexpected onslaught which was a bit like liquid lava splashing over his brain. He clutched at his head, fingers twisting in his hair as he fought to somehow manage the attack that was so much worse than the first time Mac had experienced it back at Five-0. Heat washed through him accompanied by a wave of nausea.
If he'd been able to catch his breath, Mac would have screamed, wasn't completely sure he didn't at least give it a good try when he barely heard Jack shout his name again, felt his partner pull him closer, obviously hoping to shield him. Mac wasn't trying to fight Jack, but he pulled away, curling into a ball, desperate only to escape the relentless assault that he understood Jack had no power against. He succeeded only in dragging him and Jack to the floor. The tile jarring when he hit, but was also cool and somehow soothing against his hot skin when he rolled away from his partner. Mac blinked furiously, trying to see well enough to scramble for the door, although somewhere in the back of his mind he understood it made no sense to try and flee the room. His attacker was wreaking havoc from inside him.
Red Converse high tops appeared in Mac's blurred field of vision. He had just a moment to think 'Bozer' before another jolt rumbled through his skull, sparking flashes of light behind eyelids that Mac had once more slammed shut. It was too much. Mac did scream this time. A blood-curdling primal sound that Mac couldn't quite believe had come from him. He also screamed Jack's name, shamelessly begging his partner to help him.
Distantly, he heard Jack yell, too. Jack shouted for Bozer to get a doctor.
Then Mac was being cradled, lifted off the floor, placed on the table where Jack had been sitting. Jack covered Mac's hands with his own, talking to him in hushed, frantic words. Mac caught the 'just breathe, Mac' and 'you're okay, kiddo' through the other garbled syllables his hurting mind couldn't quite process. Distantly he felt his body starting to heave, thankful he had nothing left in his stomach to come up although Jack managed to roll him to his side.
What felt like hours were probably only minutes. The release came as quickly as the spell had started. In fact, it took Mac a moment to realize he'd been freed from the throws of torment when the worst of the suffering receded swiftly like a giant wave that had just pulverized a beach only to return to a calm sea. Even in the ecstasy of liberation, Mac's heart pounded at a furious beat, his breathing came triple its normal rate as blackness crept around the edges of his vision. He had to fight to keep from slipping into unconsciousness-a fate almost as scary as another round of pain. At least in the fighting he wasn't alone. Jack was here.
"Don't go." His voice sounded foreign and deploringly weak, yet Mac couldn't even garner enough strength to be even a little embarrassed by his desperation. He let go of his head, gripping the front of Jack's crazy shirt, twisting Kamekona's likeness around his fingers. "Please don't leave."
"Hey now." Jack covered the hand clutching to him with one his of own, the other he moved to rest gently against Mac's forehead, before letting his fingers slide soothingly over Mac's hair. "I'm right here, bud. I'm not going anywhere. I've got you. I swear."
Mac wanted to say more, to tell Jack he was wasn't mad, that he was sorry for doubting him, that they were okay, but the blackness was back, more insistent than before. This time Mac was too tired not to give in so instead, he simply let go.
To be continued…