AN:

Sorry for the delay, but times are pretty crazy and busy now. Enjoy!

Chapter 8

No! Screamed Macs heart, Jack can't be dead. He was frozen in place, his finger still pressed hard into Jacks neck to find a proof of life. A hand gripped his wrist and pulled it away. „Ease up bro, let me check him." A medic said calmly and rested his own finger above Jacks pulse point lightly. The passing seconds seemed like hours for Mac until the medic nodded. „He's still with us, but barely." The blond couldn't prevent a choked up sound from escaping. He moved a little to the side to give the medics room to work and rested his hand on Jacks foot, needing the physical contact to his friend, while he watched the two soldiers taking care of the Delta.

An oxygen mask was slipped over Jacks face and one medic tried to get in a line while the other took the Deltas blood pressure. „His veins are shit, I can't get a fucking line in, he's too dehydrated," the soldier cursed. The other nodded. „No wonder, go for a central. This way we can push more fluids anyway, his blood pressure is bottoming out. We need to get him out of here and into surgery real quick."

The seriousness of that statement was not lost on Mac. He had known right away, that Jack was hurt badly. Fragments of medical jargon made its way into the blonds mind and were burned in his memory forever. Hemothorax … massive blood loss … O2 sat dangerously low … broken ribs … maybe fractured hip … unconsciousness … head trauma. Each single one would be able to provide fuel for endless nightmares to come. And all because of him. An avalanche of guilt threatened to overwhelm Mac and take him with it, but at the last second the blond shook it off. Jack needed him to function now, he could fall apart later.

The medics were transferring Jack onto a stretcher and Mac could hear the thumping of the helicopter outside the cave, ready to take off once the precious cargo was inside. Berkman and Ferrari were already on their way to a hospital.

Once they were all in the chopper Mac pulled on a headset and asked. „Where are you taking him?"

The medic answered. „Kabul, there's a major trauma center. There aren't many hospitals left, that are able to provide the care he needs."

Mac nodded and pulled out his phone, it was too loud to give Riley a call so he sent her a quick text. Got Jack out, he's badly injured, taking him to Kabul.

Riley stared at her phone in shock. The relief she felt that Jack was alive was short lived. What if he wouldn't survive? For the better part of a year Riley had been afraid something like this would happen. She had tried to prepare herself for it. Suffering through hours of gruesome reports, videos and photos. Every time Riley came across the image of a dead body, she knew it could have easily been Jack. The thought of losing him dangling above her like a sword. The harsh reality of the intel and Jacks letters in addition to that didn't let her fall asleep night after night. Riley knew Jack was an outstanding soldier, but he wasn't invincible. She thought she was prepared for it. Wrong assumption, the horrors that coursed through her made her almost lose her mind.

Once more she stared at her phone. Badly injured. Riley knew that Mac would be honest with her, but he could have been a bit more specific. He still hadn't answered to her message asking for more details and letting him know that she would be there as soon as possible. Riley made a mental note to thank Matty for making it possible. A few minutes after receiving the news she was strapped into the seat of a helicopter and on her way to Kabul. It was like a rollercoaster ride and Riley was glad, that she hasn't eaten for a while.

Macs eyes were fixated on Jacks body. The medics had cut away the Deltas fatigues and the blond pressed a hand over his mouth to avoid a whimper. Jacks chest was black with bruises, no wonder he had been buried almost a full day until they got him out. There seemed to be a injury to his hip, the angle his leg was protruding was wrong. Mac sent up a silent prayer that it was only dislocated and not broken. Jacks right arm was badly swollen, obviously broken and also dark with bruising. There was constant chatter from the medics, which Mac didn't pay attention to. His glance wandered from Jacks broken body to the small heart monitor and he could pick out easily the numbers and what they meant. That was all kinds of wrong. Nobody who wasn't working in a medical profession should be so familiar with the readings of a heart monitor. The monitor would be screaming out loud how serious Jacks condition was, if it hadn't been muted. It wouldn't be heard over the sound of the chopper anyway.

The medics hands both stilled for a moment as they discussed something. That drew Mac out of his thoughts and he was able to catch the end of the sentence. „… need to get a drain in now, or he won't make it to Kabul."

Macs eyes widened in horror. He was privy to the fact, that a medic would only take that drastic measure if it was touch or go. His eyes wandered to his friends lax features. Only then he registered that Jacks lips were turning blue, a clear indication that his body was denied precious oxygen.

One of the soldiers was wiping Jacks chest with iodine while the other took out a large needle. Mac had to turn away when they inserted that monster into his friends body. When he deemed it safe to look at Jack again, he saw the medic smiling and giving Mac a thumbs up. The blond let out his breath and relaxed a bit when Jacks vitals seemed to get a bit better. But when Mac looked at the drain, where a pouch was filling with blood, he had to swallow the rising bile back down. The sight of Jacks body losing more blood was simply wrong. The blond knew, that this was neccessary, that the blood had to come out to ease the pressure on Jacks lungs, but he hated it anyway. Mac tried to ignore it for the moment. There were two lines leading to the Deltas neck. Blood and fluids were pushed into his body at a fast speed. Most of the work for the medics seemed to be done for now, as Mac watched one packing the rubbish away and the other talking to the hospital, giving them a sitrep at what to expect.

The blond took the opportunity to move to his partners side. Carefully he picked up Jacks hand and started to rub in soothing circles with his thumb. How often had he enjoyed that soothing ryhthm, provided by Jack holding beside vigil? He had lost count of it. Mac cleared his throat and started to speak into his friends ear. „Jack, it's me, Mac. Can you hear me? You're safe Jack we got you and your buddies out. It's gonna be ok." The words came easily. Too often had they been in a similar situation, they both knew what the injured one needed to hear. Simple words of reassurance and encouragement. „Jack, come on big guy, open your eyes." And the unthinkable happend. A pair of glazed brown eyes were suddenly visible. Mac couldn't hold back the tears any longer. „That's it partner. You're doing good. Just hang on a bit longer." The blond was choked up with emotion and had to fight to get the words out. Jacks eyes roved around without focussing properly. Maybe it was the pain meds or the head injury, nobody could tell, but at least he was conscious.

Sounds, lights, movement, vibrations, jolting. Jacks senses were assaulted on every level imaginable. In additon to that all the pain receptors in his body had awoken at the same time and fought a serious battle for the upper hand. Jack felt detached and overloaded with sensations at the same time. It was a bit like being drunk, when everything was blurry, but there were still some sharp details standing out. Was this real or a only weird dream? Maybe he was dying right this minute and his body fought by rising against destiny on a last desperate attempt to stay alive. Swirling images were added to the load of information his body tried to process. Hands, blobs that turned into blurry faces, the sky, a blond mop that reminded him of Mac. And a voice that sounded like his partners. The haze over the blond mop started to lift and Jack was happy that his dying mind was able to comfort him with a picture of his best friend along with his beautiful warm baritone. Jack formed the name in his head and it seemed to take a long time until it reached his mouth to be delivered with his lips. „Mac."

One of the medics tried to get Jacks attention and started asking him questions. The Delta didn't answer. Only occasional moans made it past his parched lips. But his eyes kept sweeping over Mac again and again. His eyelids began to flutter and just before he passed out a faint „Mac" left his lips.

„I'm here Jack and I won't you leave again, I promise." Mac vowed, his voice painted with worry, but also strong with determination. Jack would get through this, he wasn't a quitter and the blond would do anything to help him get better.

Later Mac couldn't remember how they arrived in Kabul. It was a haze of activity and countless helping hands, shouting orders, quick but competent movements, running feet and then … nothing. Mac found himself sitting alone in an uncomfortable plastic chair in the hall that led to the operating rooms. He couldn't even remember sitting down. Now it was only waiting. Mac stared at the clock on the opposite wall, the seconds hand ticking away. Completing circle after circle, slowing down stretching the minutes into hours. Why did they hang a clock with a damn seconds hand? Anger surged through Mac and he had to fight the impulse to rip the offending hand off the clock. „Bitch! Stop messing with the time and do your fucking job." The blond cursed at the thing, which happened to be totally unimpressed and completed another slow circle.

The clock was mocking him, telling him how Jacks time had been filled with war and death while he played engineer in a village in Africa. Images of himself lazing around in the shade of his cabin appeared in his mind, while Jack had probably been laying on a rooftop in the baking Afghanistan sun and keeping watch over one of his buddies. Or maybe fighting the Taliban. He thought of the letters Jack had written to Riley. They had been brutal, but Ri had explained that she made Jack promise not to sugar coat what was happening to him. His eyes filled with tears, when he thought about the one where Jack had to kill kids in order to keep the doctors and patients of the hospital safe. Guilt welled up in him again. None of that would have happened, if he just had stayed in LA. Fuck, if only he had stayed in touch with Jack, he might have been able to talk him out of it. Now it was too late, his partner was lying on a cold operating table, fighting for his life while he was talking to a damn clock.

Suddenly the sound of quick footsteps cut through the silence. Mac looked up when he recognized them as Rileys. She started running when she spotted him and the blond stood up. Without a word he pulled her into his arms and buried his face in her hair. Riley returned the hug and they simply stood there for a few minutes, taking comfort in each others presence. Finally Riley broke the contact and they both sat down. „Tell me," she asked quietly and took a deep breath, anxious what she would learn.

Mac leaned forward and ran his hands through his too long hair. He closed his eyes for a moment to get a grip on his feelings before he turned to Riley and started to speak.

„We found his two buddies first. They were both hurt, but nothing life threatening I think. Jack had been closest to the detonation. He … he was unconscious. Broken arm, a headwound, dislocated or broken hip, serious dehydration, several broken ribs which resulted in internal bleeding and a collapsed lung. They put in a chest drain on the flight. He came to shortly, but wasn't really with us." Mac rattled down the facts, needing to get them off like he would shake off a pack of ants that were crawling up his leg.

Riley had paled more with each injury Mac told her. „Will he …did they say … what are…" The hacker wasn't able to finish, the thought of Jack dying to horrible to speak it out loud.

Mac laid and arm around her slim shoulders and rested his cheek on the back of her head, not able to bear the devastated expression on his friends face. „They don't know."

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