A/N 1 Once again your wonderful reviews spurred me on! Thank you all SO MUCH! I'm so happy you all seem to be enjoying this as much as I'm enjoying writing it! :-D And, to the reviewers I'm unable to reply to (OuterMars, BapBapBap28, and Guests), thank you for your wonderful reviews, as well! :-D

A/N 2 Since I'm pretty sure we're all going through Mac&Jack withdrawals - not just with this story, but also with the gap between S1 and S2! - I figured I'd throw a flashback into this chapter... and, yeah, not final chapter. Might be one or two after this. I have them planned but not completely written, so not sure yet. Depends on where the angst and h/c takes me! :-) I hope you all enjoy!

CHAPTER TEN

As soon as they'd discovered that Nick and Mac had gone off the grid to save Jack Dalton on their own, Grissom and Warrick jumped into Warrick's SUV and followed while the rest of the CSI team stayed behind to finish processing the evidence from James MacGyver's house as it trickled in. There didn't seem to be all that much to find, so far.

"What was he thinking?" Grissom demanded, annoyed at Nick's blatant disregard for his own safety.

Warrick glanced at him from the driver's seat. "He's not on the clock, Gris," he began, but a quick look at the night-shift supervisor told him loud and clear the frustration had nothing to do with insubordination. "I think, Nick is trying to protect us," he amended. "This Murdoc guy seems to be quite the psychopath!"

"All the more reason why we should be working as a team," Grissom argued.

Gris didn't even make an attempt to educate him on the differences between psychopath and sociopath. It wasn't a necessary schooling as it was something that Warrick already knew anyway, but Gil Grissom rarely passed up on a chance to educate one of his protégés on common worldly misconceptions. The fact that he chose not to take advantage of this particular opportunity spoke volumes to Warrick about the lead CSI's concern for Nick Stokes.

"Well, you know Nick," Warrick tried, hoping that would alleviate some of the concern.

"Yes, I do, Warrick," Grissom countered. "That's why I'm worried."

They both knew Nick tended to be a bit of a cowboy when it came to catching the bad guys, partly because of his Texas roots but also because the guy just had a big heart and wanted to protect anyone and everyone he cared about.

Warrick flicked his eyes from the road to Grissom and back again. Realizing the truth in the older man's words, he promptly floored it, the inertia causing both of them to jerk back in their seats.

They'd been driving for almost five hours. Nick was doing his best to keep an eye on both the rode and his passenger, but MacGyver's expression was now carefully stoic as he studied the presumably live video still playing out on his phone. The devastation had been clear on his face when he'd first received the video, and again after discovering Murdoc's true game-plan, but now the emotions appeared to be safely secreted away from all scrutiny. Nick couldn't be certain, but he had the feeling Jack Dalton would be the only one able to get through to the kid now.

Feeling like somewhat of a voyeur, Mac couldn't tear his eyes away from the footage on his phone as he and Nick raced toward Paradise Valley, Nevada. He'd wanted to take the GTO because he felt closer to Jack that way, but Nick had raised the valid point that they may encounter some questionable terrain on their journey—'with it being a desert 'n all', the CSI had explained facetiously—and Mac had reluctantly agreed to leave Jack's car behind at the Crime Lab, where it would at least be safe from possible vandals.

Which was why he now sat in Nick's Yukon Denali, with the video as his only connection to his best friend and partner.

"How's he doin'?" Nick asked from the driver's seat.

Mac stared at the footage for another moment, heart breaking at the sight of his partner slowly coming apart at the seams, then cleared his throat and asked, "How much farther?"

Knowing that the kid's reluctance to describe Jack's current state could only mean bad things for his cousin, Nick pressed down harder on the gas pedal. "Another few hours," he admitted, regretfully.

The countdown on the screen now read 3hrs:16mins. Without warning, Mac flashed back to another countdown; one with a much shorter time frame, but with just as much potential for disaster.

CAIRO – A FEW YEARS AGO

Jack was on his knees with Farhad's gun aimed point-blank at his head; while one of his men stepped up behind MacGyver and pointed a semi-automatic rifle between his shoulder blades.

"So, perhaps this little uprising is good for something, after all," Farhad laughed.

Mac glanced down at the digital readout on the dirty bomb—just over ten seconds remaining. Every muscle in his body tensed in preparation for the blast. Any second now…

"Jack!" he yelled in warning, even as he spun around and knocked the rifle's muzzle up and away from his back, then shoved the terrorist-goon hard enough that the guy landed flat on his back on the floor. Mac saw Farhad shift the gun to bear on him, and Jack snapped into action, grabbing the gun and twisting it out of the terrorist's grip. Even from this distance, Mac heard the sickening snap of bone as Farhad's wrist objected to the rough handling.

Seconds later, Jack flattened himself to the floor, folding his arms over his head, while Mac jumped inside the crate and ducked down into the straw and hay as best he could.

BOOM!

The device Mac had rigged up several feet behind them exploded, destroying much of the warehouse with it in its fiery blast! Taking a cue from his partner, MacGyver also covered his head with his arms as the flames roared a few feet above him, feeling the heat singe his hair and the sleeves of his shirt.

A moment later, he risked raising his head up past the lip of the crate, wincing when he saw the man who'd been holding him at gun point laying on his stomach, charred remains telling Mac that he had to be dead.

He was so focused on the body, Mac grunted in surprise when something sharp cut into his left calf beneath the hay insulation in the crate. He could feel a slight trickle of what he could only assume was blood running down his leg and soaking into his sock.

Perfect. The last thing they needed right now was for Mac to be sidelined by some kind of infection from the bacteria that was sure to be crawling over whatever metal shard had just sliced through his skin. Regardless, he couldn't worry about that just then.

Ignoring the pain for the time being but making a mental note to disinfect the area as soon as he got them out of this mess, Mac's gaze promptly sought out and found the timer on the dirty bomb—00:00. He had emasculated the device just moments before 'arming' it to distract and fool Farhad and his men.

Jack was always saying that Mac couldn't bluff his way out of a paper bag during a friendly game of poker. But, it would seem, he had no problem bluffing his way out of a confrontation with terrorists about to kill him and his partner. He was pretty sure even Jack would agree that the latter was a more important skill to have.

Mind you, his own blast was supposed to pack much less punch than it obviously had. He stared with a tiny bit of awe at the flames currently rising up into the rafters of the old building; the dried wood was burning at a dangerously expedited rate.

"Jack?" MacGyver called, jumping out of the crate. He crouched down and checked for the terrorist's pulse—nearly gagging when he accidentally breathed in through his nose. Nothing. Knowing that the burnt flesh could be hampering his ability to recognize a heartbeat by touch alone, Mac carefully turned the man over onto his back. "Jack!" he called out again as he studied the terrorist laying at his feet. Any question he'd had about the man's condition was dismissed by the lifeless eyes staring up at him. Biting back his remorse, knowing that his actions had been necessary despite the regrettable outcome, Mac stood up and stepped away from the body.

He had more important things to worry about just then—not the least of which being a stubbornly unresponsive partner!

"Jack!" His voice was now tinged with equal amounts impatience and fear as he made his way to the other side of the crate where he'd last seen Jack. The longer his friend failed to answer him, the higher MacGyver's heart rate elevated.

He gagged again when the smell of more burnt flesh reached his nostrils seconds before he rounded the corner of the crate. Nausea swirled in his stomach when he saw Farhad and the rest of his men in a similar state to their deceased and badly burned colleague behind him.

Finally, Mac found the object of his search, still flat on his stomach, laying beneath the burnt remains of Farhad who had clearly been thrown on top of the former Delta Commando in the concussion of the blast. From where Mac was standing, his partner appeared to not be burned at all. Unfortunately, he also wasn't moving.

"Jack!" MacGyver cried with renewed desperation. Forgetting about both the nausea and his need to be respectful of the dead, he raced forward and dropped to his knees at Jack's hip, rolling the lead terrorist haphazardly to the side and off his partner.

He felt for a pulse below Jack's jaw, fervently praying for a different result than the previous—far less important—examination. He breathed a sigh of relief at the lub-dub beneath his fingers. Unconscious. Not dead. He glanced around at the flames that were lashing out at them, then looked up at the crate. He had disconnected the explosive components from the timer before setting it, but that wouldn't stop the fire from creating an equally disastrous effect once it got close enough to ignite the chemicals inside the dirty bomb.

His gaze quickly found the two fire extinguishers on the wall closest to them; another attached to the corner of a nearby shelving unit. He eyed the crate; a still unconscious Jack; then shifted his focus to other tools available to him—including the forklift standing thirty feet away, not yet touched by the flames. Then, true to form, an idea struck.

Several minutes later, the lid was back on the crate to further protect the device from the heat; three fire extinguishers were attached to the far side of it, with a piece of wire stretching out from each one and tied to one longer one, giving Mac simultaneous control of all three levers with one pull of the wire. Finally, the business end of the forklift was situated beneath the crate and ready to lift.

Mac looked at Jack slumped next to him on the seat of the machine and wearing the only oxygen mask Mac had been able to build on such short notice. Lifting Jack's dead-weight of solid muscle had been the most difficult task, but Mac had finally managed to lift him up onto the seat before climbing up himself. Others might scream 'greater good' and the need to save the many over the one—but, as much as his partner sometimes frustrated him, he seriously loved the big guy! So, yeah, leaving Jack behind was just not an option.

Slowly, MacGyver pressed down on the gas pedal, moving the forklift towards the exit with the least amount of flame blocking it. As they got closer, he pulled on the wire intermittently, causing the carbon-dioxide to stream out from the extinguishers, effectively eliminating the oxygen that was giving life to the flames in their path. Unfortunately, that same oxygen was what was giving Mac life, too.

Figuring it would be a short trip, he held his breath as best he could as he drove the forklift directly through the cloud of carbon-dioxide. Unfortunately, the cloud also made it difficult for him to see anything that might be in the machine's path, and it bumped into other crates and obstacles on its way to the exit.

His lungs burned with the need for oxygen. As a trained field agent, Angus MacGyver was able to effectively hold his breath for considerable amounts of time in any given situation. But the delay caused by each obstacle and the necessity to put the forklift into reverse, maneuver around whatever was in his path, and then begin the forward momentum again, made the expected short journey take much longer than even his lung capacity could manage.

Which was why, just seconds before reaching fresh air, MacGyver's reflexive instincts began the ardent fight to take over, demanding he inhale, and essentially ignoring his brain's insistence that such an act could very well kill him!

So, as his eyes teared from the smoke and extinguisher fumes, and his lungs ached with the lack of oxygen, his reflexes won the battle and he inhaled the tail end of the CO2 still in the air. When the forklift finally made it past the cloud and into the fresh air beyond and Jack began to stir on the seat next to him, Mac jumped down off the forklift, falling to his knees on the pavement and coughing explosively.

Doubling over in his desperate attempt to draw in oxygen, he heard Jack call his name as if yelling under water. A moment later, the former Delta Commando's concerned face swam into view above him just as the darkness encroached on his vision, taking away all cognizance. Mac abruptly fell into found himself unable to breathe any longer and was consumed by the darkness.

It seemed like just an instant later when he jackknifed into a fetal position, coughing harshly once again. An arm slipped beneath his shoulders and before he knew what was happening, Jack was lifting him up and back to lean against his chest. His partner then carded his free hand through Mac's hair in a very father-like gesture that had MacGyver's chest constricting for totally different reasons.

"You okay, brother?" Jack asked, sounding a little shaky.

"Yeah," Mac assured him, voice rough from a combination of the severe coughing and the emotions he was trying desperately to suppress. He'd only known Jack Dalton for a little over two years and already the man had wormed his way past the 24-year-old's defenses like no one else before him.

"Sorry," Jack told him, trying for levity and failing miserably. "All the oxygen from the mask you MacGyver'd together was gone. Had to help you breathe the old-fashioned way."

Mac was just about to respond to that admission when, for the first time since exiting what had almost become their fiery tomb, his gaze took in the sight of the warehouse still being devoured by the flames. He felt badly about the ancient artifacts that would surely not survive, but was happy that both he and Jack would live to tell the tale. He pulled away from Jack's one-armed embrace. "We need to get out of here before the local authorities arrive and think we're to blame for this."

"Okay, Nikki should be waiting for us about two klicks from here. Can you stand?"

Mac gave him a look that spoke volumes of what he thought of that question, earning a chuckle from Jack. The former Delta Commando stood, then reached out one hand to offer his assistance to his partner. When Mac grabbed his hand in return, he was carefully hauled to his feet.

It was in that moment that they heard the sirens fast approaching from somewhere in the distance. The partners shared matching expressions of urgency. MacGyver rushed over to the nearby brick planter filled with bushes to retrieve their judiciously concealed Go-Bag, while Jack moved to grab the dirty bomb from the crate.

Mac eyed the Go-bag yearningly, knowing that a well-insulated and cold bottle of water sat inside, just waiting to be guzzled back and poured over his head. But, with the sirens growing louder by the second, he would have to wait until later for relief from the heat.

"Whoa!" Jack yelped behind him.

MacGyver spun around—too quickly, it seemed, as it took a second for the rest of the world to catch up with him. Shaking his head a bit to clear it, he asked, "What is it? You okay?"

"Yeah," Jack told him. There was an odd lilt to his voice, like he had just had just been startled, but by what Mac had no idea. "Yeah, I'm good." And his partner's voice returned to normal so quickly, MacGyver almost thought he'd imagined the peculiar tone.

"How about you?" Jack asked, standing in front of him now, the satchel designed specifically to carry the dirty bomb clasped securely in his arms. "You're sweating."

"We're in Egypt," the blond countered with a roll of the eyes. "It's perfectly normal to sweat."

"Okay, okay," Jack returned. "No need to have a hissy fit."

MacGyver was unable to completely hide the tiny grin forming of its own volition. "Can we go now? I'd really rather not have my second date with Nikki take place in an Egyptian prison."

"Well, I don't know. Have you ever had baba ganoush? It's—" The screech of squealing tires quickly drew their attention to the other side of the lot. Through the haze of smoke, they saw three jeeps pull up next to Farhad's abandoned one several yards away. "Yeah," Jack belatedly agreed, adjusting the satchel to carry it over his shoulder and silently urging Mac to take the lead into a nearby alleyway. "Time to go!"

MacGyver sensed rather than saw Jack pull his gun out from beneath the waistband of his black jeans at the small of his back, firing a few shots to ward off their pursuers long enough for Mac to get a bit of a lead. With a huff of frustration, Mac turned back to him. "Jack," he said irritably, "I'm not leaving without you! Come on!"

Jack peered back at him with an inscrutable look on his face, then fired one more shot before following Mac as requested.

Ten minutes later, they were almost at exfil where Nikki would be waiting. Mac could even see the clearing up ahead, the tarmac coming into view between two abandoned buildings. But wait… something didn't feel right.

Mac skidded to a stop. A few seconds later, Jack ran into his back, causing Mac to stumble forward a few steps. He fell to his knees, the Go-bag hitting the pavement next to him.

"Mac!" he heard Jack exclaim before stepping around to crouch in front of him. "Are you okay? Why'd you stop? Mac?"

MacGyver heard Jack but his focus was on something over his shoulder. Movement, maybe? There! Yeah, someone was hiding, just barely visible in the shadows. "Ambush," he warned quietly.

Jack turned, following his line of sight. "Where? I don't see anything."

"Over there," Mac hissed, pointing into the shadows along their escape route. He stood up, not liking the vulnerability of being on his knees. Obstinately ignoring the shooting pain in his left leg, his gaze darted from left to right, seeking out other threats.

Standing at his shoulder now, Jack glanced back the way they came, then peered into the shadows. "Stay here," he whispered, as he advanced on their would-be attackers, gun held ready.

MacGyver reached out to stop him, fingers only grazing his friend's arm. "Jack!" he admonished, keeping his voice quiet. Other than dismissing his concern with a wave of the hand, the Delta Commando ignored Mac's plea and continued his trek into the gloom several feet away.

A few minutes later, long enough for Mac's heart rate to increase exponentially, Jack returned. "There's nothing there, man."

"What?" Mac's gaze moved from the shadows to his partner and back again. "No. No, I can see them! Why can't you see them?" He grabbed Jack by the arm, encouraging him away from the shadows. "We need to find another route to exfil," he declared.

"There is no other route," Jack reminded him. "You know that."

Now, he was peering at Mac, leaning way too far into his personal space. Mac moved to take a step back but Jack gripped him firmly by the shoulders.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing!" MacGyver insisted, pulling away, desperately wanting to return the way they'd come. "We need to get out of here!" Why wasn't Jack able to understand? It wasn't safe here!

Jack's phone rang suddenly, earning a surprised jump from MacGyver. He answered his phone with one hand, moving his other to get a vise-like grip on Mac's forearm, holding him in place despite the fervent struggles. "Hey, Nikki… What?… No, no…," he studied Mac closely as he spoke into the phone. "We're fine… I got this… we'll be there in a minute… Hmmm?… No, maintain your position." With that, he hung up.

"We need to go, Jack," the blond protested pleadingly.

Moving his hands up to cup Mac's face, Jack stepped forward again, invading his personal space even more than before. Unable to get free, Mac at least watched his partner's back, frantic gaze taking in as much as he could from this vantage point.

"Look at me," Jack said.

They didn't have time for this. Soldiers were gaining on them from behind; waiting for them up ahead. They needed to find a different route to exfil.

"Look at me," Jack repeated, going into full Delta Commando mode this time.

Startled, MacGyver did as he was told. He was confused by the sudden flicker of emotion in his partner's eyes—going from stern to soft with the snap of the fingers.

"When that blast went off back at the warehouse, where did you take cover?"

What did that have to do with anything? Mac tried again to pull free, but Jack refused to release him, even going so far as to use his thumbs to pull down on MacGyver's lower lids and leaning in closer to look into his eyes.

"Answer me, brother."

"In the crate," Mac replied impatiently.

Suddenly, Jack released his face, his hands moving down Mac's arms; his torso; then finally his legs. Was he frisking him—?

All thoughts abruptly disappeared as an unexpected sharp pain shot through his entire being, temporarily blinding him in a haze of white agony.

When the pain finally subsided, Jack was holding him firmly in his arms. Mac was doubled over, his face mashed up against his partner's chest. He felt Jack's hands push through his hair, then ease him away and grip the sides of his face again. He was speaking to him, but Mac had to fight to understand the words.

"…scorpion…"

"What?" Mac finally managed, fighting the dizziness threatening to overtake him.

"When I got the bomb outta the crate, I saw a scorpion scurry out from beneath it."

"Scorpion?" Mac asked, confused, eyes still darting from left to right, needing to watch his partner's back.

Jack pulled him up to stand at his full height. "You're hallucinating, brother," he said urgently, gaze flicking to the opening in the alleyway behind them. "There's no one in the shadows. It's just your imagination."

"No," Mac said, trying to pull away again when Jack started urging him towards exfil. "No, you're wrong," he insisted.

Shouting could be heard from behind them. Mac's eyes widened with alarm, even as everything began to blur in and out of focus. Jack tried to pull him towards the shadows again, but Mac resisted. Why didn't his partner understand? They couldn't go in that direction either. They were trapped! Mac would know if he was hallucinating. He struggled against Jack's hold. They needed to—

He watched as Jack kept a firm hold on his arm and picked up the Go-bag with his free hand, depositing it on the same shoulder as the satchel carrying the disarmed dirty bomb. Then he slipped the gun back beneath the waistband at the small of his back.

"What are you doing?" Mac demanded. "Don't put your gun away! We need to—"

"Sorry, brother," Jack said, grabbing Mac by the wrist and abruptly folding him over his shoulders.

"Jack!" he protested angrily. "Put me down!" The dizziness returned full force, making it increasingly difficult to extricate himself from his partner's hold.

"Hey, Mac," Nick said, his voice penetrating Mac's thoughts. "You with me?"

MacGyver cleared his throat, wiping discreetly at his damp eyes. "Yeah, sorry. Where are we?"

"That's what I've been trying to tell you, kid. We're here."

Mac looked at their surroundings, realizing for the first time that they were off the highway and driving through a very small town.

"Welcome to Paradise Valley. Any ideas where you want to search first?"

"No," Mac began, then he looked out his window. "Stop!"

Nick slammed on the brakes. "What?"

Without answering, Mac jumped out of the Denali. Standing in front of him was the large oak tree from his nightmare! He continued to stare at the tree as Nick came to stand beside him.

"Hey," the CSI said, bumping shoulders with him. "Look."

MacGyver tore his gaze away from the tree long enough to see what Nick was indicating with a point of his finger. Less than a block away was a street sign – Hinkey Summit Road.

Mac abruptly heard Murdoc's voice in his head.

'…what is it Jack says? Oh yes; don't try anything hinkey.'

He moved to the railing of the bridge directly in front of them.

'How horrible will it be when you lose the one person who has always been there for you, no matter what? Your bridge over troubled water, so to speak. Your one remaining father figure.'

'Why do you care so much, anyway? I've always been confused by your friendship. It's like Prince Charming socializing with the town troll.'

Nick joined him and they both stared down into the creek below. MacGyver could only surmise that the CSI was hearing the same conversation in his head, putting the clues together as quickly as Mac was.

'…if you don't find your precious Jack in time, he will be, how shall I say this… up the creek without a Swiss Army Knife?'

"This is the place," Mac declared excitedly. He handed the cell phone to Nick, and returned to the Denali to grab the two shovels they'd loaded into the back before leaving the CSI lab.

He tossed one shovel to Nick, then half ran, half slid down the slope to the base of the tree. Hearing Nick follow, Mac found he just couldn't get there fast enough.

The sudden sharp intake of breath brought his gaze to Nick's shocked expression. The CSI was peering closely at the video on Mac's phone. "What is it?" Mac asked with more than a little trepidation. "What's happening?"

The brown eyes looked up at him, filled with emotion. "Fire ants," he said softly. "Hundreds of 'em!"

Not wasting another second, both men started digging!

TBC

A/N Sorry for yet another cliffie... well, I'm kinda sorry. LoL Anyway, rest assured, present day Jack returns in the next chapter. Along with a few more twists and turns. I hope you like this installment... and I hope all the clues fell into place organically. Please Review? :-)