Title: So You Can Make Me Whole

Series: And the World Spins Madly On

Author: dragonfly

Category: drama, angst, family, aftermath of torture, h/c

Warning: mentions of torture

Summary: Fifth story in, "And the World Spins Madly On" series. MacGyver, once again, sets out in search of his home.

A/N: Sorry for the delay. I decided to take this a little deeper than I originally had it. I recommend reading the previous four stories before reading this one. Title and chapter end lyrics from "Pieces," by Red. / not-Jack/ / memory/

Disclaimer: I don't own MacGyver, or any of its characters.

PROLOGUE

NOT NEARLY LONG ENOUGH AFTER MACGYVER'S RESCUE

There was a part of him that knew that this was a bad idea. That same part of him was largely taking into account the condition he was in, and the fact that this was the longest he'd been standing upright since before he'd been captured.

But there was an even larger part of him that pushed forward, that could feel that this was right, that time was running out, and that understood that sometimes bad ideas...they were the only options.

Standing on the manicured lawn, MacGyver didn't know what had brought him there exactly. Not really. It certainly wasn't logical considering what he was planning on doing.

/ "Now, I know it's hard with being the cerebral guy that you are, but sometimes you just gotta turn down that big brain of yours," Jack reached out and gently bumped MacGyver's chest with the side of his fist, "and listen to what's going on in here, bud." /

As if he could feel the touch, MacGyver slid a hand over his chest. It wasn't the first time he's heard or seen Jack as if he were standing right next to him. It had been happening on and off since his capture, since before Deacon had done what he'd done to save him. He could think of a few perfectly logical reasons as to why...and a few concerning ones, but he thought it ultimately came down to one thing: He missed him. He missed his best friend.

/ "I miss you too, Mac."/

A light breeze mussed MacGyver's hair and he reminded himself, not for the first time, that he didn't believe in ghosts.

Though he hadn't been held captive long, MacGyver had been broken in ways he didn't know was possible. Maybe because the cracks had already been present. He did recognize that he had been through a lot, and his instinct has always been to compartmentalize and keep moving. It was how he stayed on task, stayed focused. It was how he kept going when everything in him just wanted to...stop.

But...when he was in that cell, trapped alone with the broken pieces that he had always tried so hard to ignore, for the first time, MacGyver noticed what had been there all along:

Hope.

He heard soft steps through the grass behind him, but didn't turn around."I know what you're going to say."

"Mind filling me in?"

The sun was bright, but the air was cool and quickly sapping what little strength MacGyver had. Still, he was nothing, if not determined. "You're going to say, "you're grieving, you're in pain, you're not thinking clearly." His eyes turned to the temporary white cross placed in the ground. Maybe he had been drawn there to see it for what it truly was: a lie, one he was going to expose. "And if...if you were still pretending to be Jack, you'd say something about the hamster in my brain flying off the wheel."

Deacon let out an amused breath. "Sounds like Dalton, but why? What are we doing here, kid? Shouldn't nurses still be hovering over you?"

MacGyver was torn about what Deacon had done. He had saved his life, for which he'd forever be grateful, but MacGyver also felt betrayed and a little embarrassed, if he were being honest. Regardless, "I need your help."

"With?"

Clenching his fists, he steeled himself to continue. He knew he was right. But finding someone to listen instead of coddle–

"Mac?"

Turning to face him, MacGyver tried to hide the pain the motion elicited. He was still in a lot of it; pain, but he couldn't, wouldn't wait any longer. Pushing the discomfort down, he met Deacon square in the eyes. "With bringing Jack home."

CHAPTER ONE

Deacon looked more than shocked; he looked heartbroken. "Mac–"

"The numbers on his dog tags are wrong," MacGyver insisted. "So is the middle initial. Somehow I didn't–I didn't notice before, but it just...it came to me when I was in that cell."

"When you were out of your mind with fever and pain," Deacon reminded gently, "and latching onto anything you could to keep yourself fighting. I get it, kid. I do, but–"

A sharp pain suddenly tore across MacGyver's back. Crying out, he would have folded to his knees, if not for Deacon's quick reflexes.

"Kid?"

"I'm o-okay." The sudden bolts of pain were nothing new. His injuries ran deep, and he shouldn't be moving around as much as he was.

"How about w–"

"You're not–" MacGyver cut him off, panting through the pain, "you're not him." Slowly, painfully, he straightened, healing, angry skin pulling across his back. "So, stop acting like it." He pulled his arm from Deacon's grip.

"No, I'm not," Deacon dropped his hand, "but if I were the one gone, and Jack were still here...I'd want him–I'd want him to be lookin' out for my kids."

Fight leaving him with a tired sigh, MacGyver looked back down at the cross. It seemed so...small and insignificant compared to the life it was supposed to be representing. Closing his eyes, he again clenched his fists to steady his resolve. Exhaustion still plagued him, along with the pain...and technically, Deacon was right; he should still be in a bed and under medical care. He had another procedure scheduled this week to assist with the healing process. But he couldn't...he couldn't heal with pieces of him still missing. "I know," his voice shook under the weight he carried in his heart, "I know he's still out there. I can feel it. I can feel it in my gut." Jack was always teaching him to listen to his gut. "He needs me."

"Mac, you're exhausted, you're–"

"You want to helicopter-parent me like Jack, fine," MacGyver interrupted again,"but...but what I really need, just for a little bit..." he looked to Deacon, every fiber of his being begging, "is for you to believe in me like he does."

Tears burned Deacon's eyes as he searched the sky for guidance. "Shit, kid."

"Listen, I know you have your own family, and I can never thank you enough for everything that you've already done. You've already gone above and beyond, but–"

Deacon waved off his speech. "Just show me what you got."

~*~M~*~

Sitting in Deacon's dining room, MacGyver's mind raced. It was easy enough to prove to Deacon what he already knew: that the dog tags they were given, that they were meant to believe were Jack's, were, in fact, bogus.

But why? And who had planted them? Jack, or someone else? One answer brought on so many questions.

/ "You got this, Mac. I trust you." /

As his mind spun, MacGyver absently played with a matchbox car; sliding it back and forth under his finger. "Where are you?" he whispered, seemingly to himself, eyes still on the toy.

/ Beats me, man. Hey, you know you're talkin' to yourself right now, don't you? You gonna tell someone how bad it is? /

MacGyver's phone beeped on the table next to him. It was a text message from Riley this time. Everyone had been checking up on him, but so far he'd been able to keep them at arm's length–telling them that he just needed some time alone. He hadn't told them about the dog tags. Not yet.

When someone slid a pill in front of him, MacGyver looked up to find Worthy eyeing him expectantly. He ignored him, and the pill. The entirety of Dalton's Heroes had arrived in quick order after Deacon had put out the call to action. "I'm fine."

/ "Hoss–" /

"And yet, according to, "Jack Dalton's Guide for the Care and Feeding of his Beloved Nerdasaurus," "Fine" actually means, and I'm quoting here, "The boy is in serious need of attention."

MacGyver looked up at him, confusion on his face. "Wait...what?"

"Oh, we all got one." Worthy sat across the dining room table from him."A guide. It's pretty thick. The man thought of everything."

/ "Bozer helped."/

MacGyver's mouth opened, but then closed again when he honestly didn't know what to say.

"Worthy," Deacon called from the living room, "get in here a sec, man."

Worthy pointed at the pill and gave MacGyver a meaningful look as he walked away.

Picking up the medication and fingering it, MacGyver sighed. In truth, his head hurt, his back...it always hurt, and the pain was managing to creep around to his sides and chest and down his hips. He didn't remember it hurting this much the last time. It had hurt. A lot. But the last time–

"It's a safe deposit box," Thorpe announced, wheeling into the dining room, the rest of the team following behind.

MacGyver slowly straightened from where he'd been leaning heavily on the table. "What is?"

"The numbers on Jack's bogus dog tags."

Hope fluttered in MacGyver's chest. "Where?"

Setting the laptop on the table, Thorpe spun it around and pointed at the map on the screen.

~*~M~*~

Pulling their resources together, they were able to charter a plane much like the Phoenix's and were in the air within two hours. Biting back a painful sigh, MacGyver attempted another position in his seat. It was impossible for him to get comfortable anywhere, but take-off was exceptionally painful. A pill again appeared in front of him.

"Take it." Deacon's tone left little room for argument. "I know you didn't take the one Worthy gave you."

"They make my head foggy."

/ "Mac..." /

"All you need to do right now is rest, kid."

MacGyver's emotions were so close to the surface, he felt like he was barely holding himself together, barely keeping everything he was feeling contained. It didn't feel like that long ago that he had last set out in search of Jack, in search of a destination that he may never find. But he did then. He did find him. And this time, he wasn't setting out alone.

"How far you think you're gonna get if you're not taking care of yourself? Aside from skipping the pain pills, I know you're not using all of your medications."

"I'm taking what I need to."

"No, you're not." Deacon pulled a small tub of medicated cream from his bag."

"How'd y–?"

"I told Webber I was taking you to the cabin to rest and clear your head. And let me tell you, she was none too happy about it. When she was finished giving me an ear full, she insisted I give you this. Apparently, you left it behind when you checked yourself out AMA."

Turned sideways in the seat to alleviate pressure on his back, MacGyver glanced at Deacon out of the corner of his eyes. "I'm taking everything I need to. I just can't...I can't reach to put that on."

"Were you this frustrating with Dalton?"

/ Snort. /

"All you have to do is ask, kid."

MacGyver exhaled. "It smells pretty badly."

"So does Sid's hair gel."

"I heard that," the man grumbled a few seats behind them.

"Bench seat?"

"No." He'd feel too exposed there. He also didn't think he could muster enough energy to move at the moment. "Could we–" He gestured at the table in front of him.

"Whatever's more comfortable for you." Before Deacon helped MacGyver with his shirt and bandages, he plugged in and handed him a heating pad. "You're shivering."

Touched by the gesture, MacGyver nodded his thanks and slid it under his chest as he leaned forward across the table. "I see you've also been talking to Bozer." Sometimes his body had trouble staying warm when it was busy healing. "Or was this in Jack's manual?"

/ "Chapter four." /

Deacon just grinned and worked on exposing the wounds covering MacGyver's back. He hesitated when he saw how badly they still looked. "Damn, kid." Tears filled the seasoned soldier's eyes.

"It's fine." MacGyver mumbled hollowly, resting his head on his crossed arms. "I'm fine."

Sadness and worry swelled in the older man's chest. He had already been fearing what would be left of MacGyver if the kid didn't find what he...what they all were hoping to. But now, seeing the physical state that he was still in, he worried that MacGyver wouldn't make it back at all. If, by some miracle they did find Dalton alive, he was going to kick Deacon's ass for bringing his kid out into the field in the shape that he was in.

Placing latex free gloves on first, Deacon scooped some of the medicated cream from the jar and started applying it as gently as he could to MacGyver's wounds. It was meant to help with pain, healing and to stave off infection, but Deacon imagined it was still extraordinarily painful while being applied. He looked around for the pill he'd left on the table, and was glad to see it gone. Hopefully he hadn't just pocketed it.

"Let me know if you need a break."

"I'm all right."

/ " You need to stop lying to him, Mac. I'm serious, now." /

"Have you explained to me why we aren't looping in the rest of your team." Deacon tried to distract him from what he was doing. "We know without a doubt that the tags are fake." MacGyver had refused getting them involved in any way.

A few long moments passed before MacGyver finally answered him, and when he did, Deacon had to strain to hear.

"He...he didn't come home." Cheek on his arm, MacGyver wrestled with the surged of emotions that suddenly welled up inside of him. Because he knew...he knew that after they took down Kovac, if Jack had been in hiding, or had gone under deep, he would have come home. "He wouldn't do that to us: stayed away. Not if...not if he could help it." And while he wanted to see the dog tags as proof that Jack was very much alive, there was really nothing but MacGyver's gut saying that was the case. He didn't want to give his team hope, only to have it ripped away. He knew what that felt like.

Sitting in the chair across from him, not-Jack held MacGyver's gaze. Sorrow and helplessness shone from his troubled eyes, but not even he could make the promise that MacGyver needed to hear.

When a tear slid free and onto MacGyver's his arm, Deacon pretended that he didn't notice.

~*~M~*~

By the time they arrived at the bank overseas, MacGyver knew he was in bad shape. And by the way Deacon and everyone was looking at him, he knew he was failing to hide it. Sid, Worthy and Fitzy stayed outside while Deacon and Munoz flanked him as he walked up to the counter. Having discussed how they were going to get access to the safe deposit box, they decided to start with the easiest way; by asking. If Jack was responsible for the dog tags and leading them there, then he would have left MacGyver access.

"I'd like to access this box." MacGyver slid a piece of paper with the numbers over to the teller.

"I.D., please."

Handing her his passport, MacGyver hoped that they were right.

/ Of course you are, man." /

"Mr. MacGyver right this way."

/ "See." /

Releasing a tense breath, MacGyver followed her down a narrow hallway, Deacon and Munoz right behind, not-Jack at his side. Adrenaline was fueling his steps, and he feared was the sole reason he was still standing.

"Wait here." She gestured to a small room with a table and four chairs.

"Kid, you look like you need to sit down," Deacon warned softly.

/ "Yeah, what he said, Mac."/

Before MacGyver could come up with a convincing lie, the teller returned with the safe deposit box and placed it on the table, before leaving and closing the door behind her.

They all stared at the box for a few moments before moving towards it. It had a numeric lock.

"He left this for you," Munoz reminded him. "The code should be something you'd know."

Sighing, MacGyver shook his head. It could be anything. Picking up the metal box, he looked it over. When he started to lift it above his head to search for clues, the pain in his back stopped him short.

"Here, I got it." Deacon took it and lifted it up for them. "There." He gestured at something that was faintly etched into the bottom. "Is that a...tree?"

MacGyver racked his brain. The trunk of the tree was very broad, but the top was... "It's a baobab tree," he realized.

Both men looked at him, eyebrows raised, expecting him to know exactly what that meant.

Frustrated, MacGyver shook his head. "They–they grow in Africa, parts of Asia and Australia."

"Africa...Cairo?" Deacon guessed, lowering the box back onto the table.

"No, he–" MacGyver paused as he remembered something. "He kept calling them upside-down trees."

/ "'cause they were." /

"When?" Munoz and Deacon asked at the same time.

"When we were in Madagascar." He looked up at them and said at the same time not-Jack did, "The only time we were lucky." Turning the box on the table towards him, MacGyver went to put in the date. "Wait...the first one's a letter."

"M" for Madagascar?" Munoz tossed out a guess.

"No," MacGyver returned, deep in thought. "S."

Deacon's eyes widened with realization. "The middle initial on the bogus tags."

MacGyver entered the "S" and the date of the Madagascar incident. The metal box opened. It was full of documents, pictures and...Jack's real dog tags. Heart beating frantically, MacGyver grabbed the dog tags with one hand and a handful of papers with the other. Deacon and Munoz reached into the box next.

"Looks like everything Jack was compiling, trying to pin down Kovac." Deacon showed him pictures of multiple people they've since learned were part of the terrorist cell."

Looking over everything, MacGyver's hope started to plummet as frustration and despair took hold. "We–we already know all of this. Jack already led us to everyone here. Phoenix dismantled the whole operation." Pain in his head and heart spiking, MacGyver suddenly couldn't catch his breath. He didn't know what he'd hoped to find, but –

"Hold on there, kid. There's a lot of information here. There could be something the Phoenix missed."

/ "He's right, Mac."/

Despite the voices of reason, MacGyver was dangerously close to the end of his rope, both mentally and physically. When his knees gave out, he was guided into a chair.

"Hey, kid, I need you to take some deep breaths for me." Deacon knelt in front of him.

Everything hurt so badly. Jack's dog tags bit into MacGyver's palm. He tried to listen, to get control over his breathing. He felt hot and cold at the same time.

/ "Come on, hoss, you need to slow that breathing down." /

If they had already hit a dead end...

/ "You're spinnin' out, man. I need you to focus." /

MacGyver squeezed his eyes shut, almost wishing he'd stop hearing and seeing him. He couldn't be there. He just couldn't.

/ "You keep on fightin,' hoss. You promise me. /

The memory slammed into MacGyver.

/ "I need to know you'll be waiting for me when I get out of this hell hole." There was a slight tremor to Jack's voice. "I need to know you're still out there fightin', man."/

MacGyver gripped the dog tags in his hand tighter.

/ "You promised me, Mac." /

A cool hand pressed against his cheek. "He's not responding and he's burnin' up pretty good. You find anything yet, Munoz?"

"Not yet."

/ "I need you to promise me again, bud. Promise me that you'll keep fighting. For both of us."/

MacGyver forced a slow breath, trying to center himself even as tears streamed down his face. "Where are you?"

/ "I'm here, Mac. I'm right here."/

He took another calculated breath, and then another...before finally opening his eyes.

/ "Promise me."/

It took MacGyver another long moment to find his voice, but he did. "Promise."

"Kid?" Deacon's eyes were bright with worry. "Promise, what?"

He shook his head. It certainly wouldn't help his case to tell Deacon that he was talking to Jack. MacGyver looked down at the dog tags he gripped tightly in his hand. His heart was still beating rapidly, his breaths were still a little shaky, and he still desperately ached for answers, for his best friend. "Why would he do this?"

"I think he was just covering his bases," Deacon answered gently. "The postcard, the fake dog tags. He wanted to make sure you got this information, no matter what."

MacGyver looked out over the table. It was covered with the contents of the box; papers, pictures, charts..."There has to be something here." This couldn't be it. It couldn't.

"Mac–" Deacon watched him with growing worry. "I think maybe we should–"

MacGyver slammed a hand down on the table and bowed his head. Tremors rocked through him as he breathed through the pain, through the doubt. "There has to be something."

"We're not giving up, Mac, but I think we need to regroup and get you some medical attention. The boys will go through all of this, every piece, but let me take care of you. You know that's what Jack would want."

/ He's not wrong, bud." /

MacGyver knew he needed, in the very least, rest and medication, and to be admitted for medical treatment at the most–but he couldn't stop, he couldn't rest until–

"Mac," Munoz handed him a sheet of paper. "I don't remember this being in Phoenix's report. Do you?"

After a quick look, MacGyver's eyes darted to them both. "No, I don't." Hope reignited. He could feel his body surge with adrenaline.

"What is it?" Deacon leaned in to get a look himself.

"A compound about seventy miles from here that Jack believed was part of Kovac's network."

"We're gonna need more guns if we're gonna infiltrate this place," Deacon stated grimly, reading through the data.

Munoz was already gathering up all the papers to take with them. "I might know a guy." He tapped his ear piece. "Thorpe, you there, man?"

~*~M~*~

After MacGyver stumbled for a third time, Deacon ordered him to stay back with Fitzy. "Kid, I can't take you in there. Not like this." They had driven as close to the compound as they could, but had to make the last two miles across uneven terrain on foot.

/ "Listen to him, Mac." /

"I didn't come all this way to sit it out. You might–you might need me." But MacGyver's body took that moment to betray him further. Hit with a sudden wave of vertigo, his shoulder slammed into the tree he already had his arm braced against.

Catching him before he could fall, Deacon helped him to the ground. "Jack would have my ass if I took you into a firefight like this."

/ "Again, he's not wrong, bud. You go in there and get yourself killed, I'm going to be pissed." /

Panting, MacGyver squeezed his eyes shut, willing the world to stop spinning, willing what little he had eaten to stay in his stomach. "I'm fine."

Checking MacGyver's pulse, Sid made a sound of clear disagreement and cast Deacon a worried look.

"Mac," Deacon sat back on his haunches, "you have to let us do this part." MacGyver's condition wasn't the only reason he didn't want him going in. If there was a chance that Jack had been captured instead of killed in that explosion, the odds that he were still alive after all these weeks...they weren't in their favor.

MacGyver hated the tears that blurred his vision. "I can make it," he argued weakly.

/ "Mac, please, let the boys handle this."/

MacGyver could feel himself trembling and knew he had reached the end of his rope. Despite coming all of this way, he could go no further. Heart sinking, his eyes dropped to the ground. It was hard to force the words pass the emotions choking him up, but he had to."If he's in there...no matter what..." Chin trembling, he took an unsteady breath, "no matter what... bring him back."

"Yeah, kid," Deacon's own throat was tight. "Promise."

MacGyver didn't watch as everyone but Fitzy disappeared into the trees. The shaking was getting worse and he was barely keeping himself from throwing up. This was it. Not only was he at the end of his rope, this was the end of the road. He could feel it. They would find their answers in that compound. This was where they'd learn of Jack's fate. This was where MacGyver would need to face the truth, no matter what it was.

Fitzy's boots appeared in his line of vision before he knelt before him. "Drink." He held out his canteen. "Come on, you know you need to." He waved the canteen at him when MacGyver made no move to take it. "It'll help your stomach."

"I should be with them." MacGyver reluctantly took the water.

"No, man, you should be in a bed hooked up to about ten IVs, thousands of miles away from here. But, since you're quite possibly just as stubborn as Dalton..." He gestured at the canteen.

MacGyver managed a sip of the warm water, but couldn't stomach more–even if he wasn't in the condition that he was in, he was too nervous. They had gone radio silent, so they couldn't even gauge their progress over comms. All they could do was sit and wait.

Minutes passed. Minutes that felt like forever. MacGyver kept glancing over at not-Jack who hadn't taken his eyes off of him.

/ "No matter what, Mac, it's not your fault."/

Looking away, MacGyver rest his head against the tree. He didn't believe in ghosts.

Time continued to pass without word, without answers.

Not-Jack wasn't the only one watching him like a hawk. "You doing okay over there, Mac?"

MacGyver didn't look at him, and was about to lie when a rustling sound in the trees put them on alert. Fitzy held a finger to his lips and went to check it out, gun in hand.

Back burning, body and hope trembling, MacGyver started to pull himself up using the tree he'd been resting against. His eyes darted over to a worried looking not-Jack, before he looked around for something to defend himself with. He found something just as Jack suddenly stumbled into the clearing, holding his arm to his chest and dirtier than hell.

MacGyver swayed as his world flipped from one impossible truth, to another. He looked over to where not-Jack had been standing. He was gone.

"Mac."

There was so much emotion, so much love, so much said with just his name. An overwhelming feeling of home washed over MacGyver as he turned to Jack. But if this wasn't real, if this Jack wasn't real...

Jack started to close the distance between them with a slight limp. MacGyver's eyes widened and his breaths quickened with every step Jack made. Stopping barely a foot apart, out of breath with emotions, they both just stared at each other; taking each other in, every new line, every new scar–a map of moments lived while they were forced apart.

"You did it, man," Jack's voice shook with more than just pride. "You brought down Kovac and saved my ass."

Breaths still coming too quickly, MacGyver continued to stare at him.

"I'm real, bud," Jack promised thickly, placing his hand over the one MacGyver hadn't even realized he had reached out and latched onto Jack's shirt with.

MacGyver looked down at the warm hand covering his. A thick tear slid free and slowly carved its way down his cheek. He could do Stoichiometry in his head, but this...he was having trouble processing this. He had so many questions, even while doubt continued to claw and scrape at him. "Jack?" he finally found his voice. It sounded as uncertain as he felt.

"In the flesh, homie," Jack returned softly, squeezing his hand.

MacGyver took a shaky breath. It was all too much, what if–

"And, hey," Jack rubbed his thumb across MacGyver's knuckles, "I know you were delirious and all at the time...but, Deacon, really? I'm slightly offended."

The half sob/half laugh erupted from MacGyver unexpectedly and he suddenly found himself wrapped up in Jack's arms. Real. Whole. Alive.

Home.

"I'm so sorry I wasn't there," MacGyver breathed out brokenly, holding onto Jack as much as he could with his own injuries.

Jack shook his head, tears slipping freely down his gaunt face and through his beard. He squeezed the back of MacGyver's neck. "Likewise, kid," he choked out hoarsely, keeping his arms high and low around his back. "Likewise."

Keeping each other in their arms, they let the sorrow, the joy, the relief, wash over them.

"I've missed you, man," Jack breathed into MacGyver's shoulder. "God, I've missed you."

"Jack, I–" A bolt of pain suddenly struck through MacGyver's back, nerves still raw, still remembering. Crying out, he gripped Jack's shirt tighter as he tried to breathe through it and keep his knees from buckling. When he wasn't successful –

"Whoa, hey, I got you." Jack tightened his hold, but being in his own weakened and injured state, he had trouble slowing their descent. Just then, strong hands appeared from all around them and they were both carefully lowered to the ground. But Jack barely registered anything that wasn't his boy. "Mac, talk to me? What's wrong?"

"N-nothing," MacGyver panted through the pain still consuming him, forehead pressed into Jack's shoulder. "Jus - sec..."

Deacon and Sid dropped down on both sides of them. As Sid pulled something out of a leather pouch, Jack demanded, "What the hell's wrong with my kid, boys?"

"He's too damn stubborn for his own good, that's what's wrong," Deacon answered solemnly before nodding at Sid to proceed.

MacGyver tried to pull away when he felt the tug of his sleeve, but didn't have the strength. "No, ta–take care of Jack."

"Takin' care of you is takin' care of me, bud. Remember?" Jack watched with a frown as Sid administered the shot.

The reaction was immediate. With a sigh of relief, MacGyver sunk further into Jack's arms. Frown deep, Jack adjusted his hold and bore the weight without complaint. He glanced over at Sid's questioning look. "Uh, unless you got a cheeseburger in there, I'm good."

MacGyver tried to pull his weight away from him, knowing Jack had been through his own hell, but his body wasn't cooperating. Frustrated tears filled his eyes as a pitiful sounded escaped passed his lips.

"Take it easy, hoss. We've got nowhere to be."

"I'm so sorry."

"For what?"

"I missed it. I took too long to figure it out," he lamented, hands sliding more securely around Jack's back now that his pain had eased up some. "You were in there for–"

"A lot less time than I would have been if you never did," Jack immediately dismissed the notion that MacGyver had failed him in any way. "Hell, I didn't even know those tags weren't on me until I woke up in Chez Suck-O. I must have lost them trying to escape the explosion."

MacGyver's mind was spinning, and still, he was afraid; afraid that if he let go, Jack would disappear and he'd wake up with only whispers of him again. "Please be real," he found himself praying into Jack's shoulder.

"I am, kid. And I'm not going anywhere."

Squeezing his eyes shut, MacGyver willed it to be true. "We–" He finally managed to pull away slightly, hands still holding onto Jack's dirt and bloodstained shirt. "We need to get you to a hospital." They were both a mess, trembling all over.

"I'm more worried about you right now." Jack lightly rubbed his thumb across the bottom of MacGyver's jaw where a myriad of colors could still be seen from his healing bruises.

With wonder and tears in his eyes, MacGyver shook his head. The man had been beaten and held prisoner for weeks, but still his concern wasn't for himself. "Jack–" But he was cut off when a helicopter suddenly flew just over their heads. Immediately on alert, he looked to Jack's old team, but found everyone relaxed, even smiling. "Dea–?"

"Sorry to break up the reunion, guys."

MacGyver brought a hand to his ear as Deacon handed Jack an ear bud. "Matty?"

"There are a few people who just couldn't wait until you boys got home."

"Wh–?" MacGyver looked to Deacon who just smiled as he helped them both to their feet. Then MacGyver noticed that it was Russ flying the helicopter.

"Matty, it's good to hear your voice," Jack greeted thickly.

"Likewise, Dalton." Matty's emotions were just as palpable.

Before the chopper had even touch the ground, Riley leapt out and started running full speed towards them. She didn't stop until she was in Jack's arms. "Please be real, please be real, please be real," she begged, face buried in his chest, hands gripping the back of his shirt.

Jack wrapped his arms just as fiercely around her. "I'm real, sweetheart," he promised through his own tears, "I'm here." He tugged on the front of MacGyver's shirt, pulling him into their hug.

"Room for one more?"

Faces wet with tears, they looked up from their huddle. Sniffling, "Get in here, man," Jack ordered, pulling Bozer in on Riley's other side.

No one spoke as they held onto each other, held onto the impossible that they had been given.

"Taylor..." Matty's voice eventually came softly over comms. "Bring my family home."

Russ nodded from where he had been standing quietly by. "Roger that." Still, he waited until the wolf pack moved apart on their own.

"I'm supposed to tell you that Desi is hella pissed that she couldn't be here," Bozer shared, stepping back and wiping his face on his sleeve. "And that she has a cold beer waiting for you with your name on it."

Jack's grin was tired, but genuine. "Can't wait."

Bozer turned to MacGyver. "And I'm supposed to punch you in the arm, but since you look like you're about to fall over, let's just pretend I did."

MacGyver gave him a weak smile. "I appreciate it, Boze." He then looked pointedly at Deacon.

The soldier brought up an unapologetic hand. "If there's one thing I've learned since having kids; it's that you don't get between a mama bear and her cub, especially if that cub is wounded."

MacGyver rolled his eyes, even while everyone else snorted in amusement. "I'm fine."

"Hoss, you look about as bad as I feel. And let me tell ya, that's not great."

When they both swayed into each other, Bozer took MacGyver by the arm, and Riley tightened the hold she already had around Jack's waist.

"Uh, I think it's time we get our boys down for a nap...and a band aid, or two." Bozer tugged MacGyver towards the helicopter. Nobody commented on how MacGyver still hadn't let go of Jack's shirt.

"Yes, it's probably better I return Ilene before anyone notices she's missing," Russ agreed, leading the way.

"Ilene?" Jack acknowledged Russ for the first time.

"Yes, well, every good bird deserves a name," Russ explained. "Russell Taylor, by the way," he turned around just enough to shake Jack's hand. "It's an honor. Truly."

Limping through the field, Jack was helped by Riley, while Bozer kept a supportive hand under MacGyver's elbow. And Dalton's Heroes surrounded them all, keeping them in a protected bubble.

"Aw, you guys say nice things about me at the funeral?"

"Jack," Riley warned.

"Too soon?"

MacGyver huffed with a wane smile,"Definitely." Then after a moment, he offered, "Sara came."

"Really?"

"With her husband."

"Hmm, well, can't win them all."

"I find everything I thought I lost before

You call my name

I come to you in pieces

So you can make me whole..."

TBC

A/N: He liiiiiiiiives! (Of course, he does.) There's a bit we have to delve into yet (including more h/c!), but I thought this was a good place to stop in case it takes me forever. I am also still working on the sequel to, "From Broken Things."