Author's note: I've got to be honest, I just reread this chapter for the first time since November, and it's some of my best work. I had a little help with the medical stuff at the end from a wonderful friend. Anyway, thanks for sticking around with this long ass story. Here comes more action and the rescue attempt!
CHAPTER 6~~ ~~ ~~ ~~
Despite his lax appearance, Jack was on high alert, listening to every little sound in the room. Once it sounded like his captors were otherwise occupied, Jack mentally prepared to spring into action. He was sure he wouldn't actually get away, but if he could get a few of these goons into the camera frame, maybe Riley could use facial recognition to identify them and narrow down their location. If he could get outside the building, he could look for identifying marks or numbers to relay back to his team. He honestly didn't plan to survive his escape, but wanted his team to find him and stop El Noche and his crew so Mac and the rest of his family would be safe from them once and for all.
Dislocating, or more likely breaking his thumbs, would be the most difficult part of his escape, but his wrists already slick with blood would facilitate his quick release from the shackles.
Jack took a deep breath and held it, hoping the cartel wouldn't notice. He steadied himself back up on his toes and yanked as hard as he could while folding his thumbs in as tightly as they would go. He felt the skin along his thumbs scrape off against the metal as he pulled his wrists free, ready to make a run for it.
Jack ran as fast as he could, bare feet barely making contact with the concrete floor as he flew to the door. Thankfully it wasn't locked, and Jack laughed with delight as he reached the outside.
Bozer noticed Jack move first, he gave Riley a smack on the arm to get her attention. She batted his hand away, disregarding his intrusion, "I think I found the truck, it headed north toward Reno! Matty! I think they went to Reno!" Her excitement escalated with visual confirmation of the truck's direction of travel. Bozer finally drew her attention to the wall screen. She stood and gasped as Jack ran out of the frame of the screen, her hand covering her mouth in astonishment, "Holy shit! He got out!"
They heard the door at the warehouse open along with Jack's excited cackle, floored that Jack seemed to make it out of the building. When they saw his captors zoom across the screen, all of the excitement turned into dread. Moments after hearing the warehouse door open again, they heard gunfire. After a dozen shots, the firing stopped. The realization that Jack either got away or was taken down hit Riley so abruptly that she almost got sick.
The next moments dragged by like what felt like hours staring at that empty screen, listening for ant signs of life. The Phoenix crew heard the warehouse door open yet again and El Noche's number two strolled through the frame of the screen. While they wanted to be excited about identity confirmation for someone they only assumed was there based on vague clues, it was becoming increasingly difficult to celebrate. A faint scraping sound grew more discernible the closer Lurch got to the camera. He walked into the frame dragging a limp Jack across the floor by his elbow, leaving a trail of blood drawing a gory line on the concrete.
Jack had made it about 20 steps outside of the building with no one on his tail and turned around to see what kind of info he could relay back to his team about the location. The large red numbers '473' on the side of the building were good enough for Jack. He used some of the blood oozing from his wrists to make 3 dots on the backs of his hands on 3 different segments of his fingers hoping the mess on his thumbs didn't prevent the message from being clear to his team. He continued to run, with no destination in mind. There were no surrounding buildings, no main roads, he wasn't sure where running would get him; he needed to steal a car. He pulled on the handle of what was probably one of his captor's sedans, but it was locked. He continued to check doors as the 4 goons funneled out of the door of the warehouse toward him, firing haphazardly at him like a group of stormtroopers. He found a box truck with the passenger door unlocked just as his calf was struck by a bullet. He climbed inside the truck and slid across the seat, checking the visor for an ignition key. A bullet entered the windshield, so Jack ducked down sideways in the seat and continued to look for keys to start the vehicle.
Unfortunately for Jack, the key was not anywhere inside the truck, and he was trapped. He raised his hands in surrender as someone opened the driver's side door of the truck to pull him out. Lurch backed away from the door and allowed Jack to exit the cab and step down with his hands behind his head. They followed him back to the building, limping slowly as the blood poured from the gunshot wound in the back of his calf. Three armed men trailed behind him, guns aimed at Jack, as the other 2 awaited their arrival inside. When they got to the door, Jack backed away from it, hands still behind his head, to allow one of the other men to open the door for him. If Jack timed it right, he'd be able to grab a gun off of the one opening the door and take down all of his assailants.
One of the henchmen tucked is firearm into the back of his pants and pushed the door open to allow Jack to enter; Jack took his opportunity to tackle him and attempt to grab the gun, but as he launched himself forward with his good leg to wrestle the guy to the ground, he was pistol whipped across the temple. Jack dropped like a rag doll on top of the henchman just as he got his hand on the grip of the Glock.
The goon that was pinned under Jack's body shoved him off roughly, dropping him to the ground on his back, the fresh blood that was trickling from his temple to his eye began flowing into his hairline. The tallest henchman grabbed Jack's arm just below the elbow and pulled him through the door, burning road rash into his shoulder and part of his back as he was dragged carelessly to the staged camera's frame.
"Is he…" Riley couldn't even bring herself to say the words.
Matty turned from the screen, on her phone, commanding the team that was enroute to San Diego be rerouted to Reno immediately, destination to be determined.
Mac's voice cracked as he unintentionally broke the solemn silence, "We were so close."
Matty, with her innate ability to stay focused on the task at hand, continued with orders, "Riley, send me all the properties that fit the criteria within 100 miles of Reno." She paused, looked at the feed on the wall at the cartel cronies milling around on the screen, "and run facial rec' on all those assholes. Jack didn't cause all that ruckus for nothing. Use it."
After several keystrokes and a few moments, Riley stammered, "y-yea, these guys are part of a Reno based crew. Looks like we're headed in the right direction. I can try to refresh the satellite images again to see if we can find the truck parked outside one of the eight potential properties."
Bozer wasn't sure if he was the only one looking for signs of life, or if he was just the only one that was too stricken by what just happened to do anything but balk. He watched Jack's chest, it looked like it was moving, expanding and shrinking slightly, quickly. A guy they hadn't identified yet dragged a folding metal chair to the center of the screen where the chains had previously hung. He saw this as a good sign, the front of the guy's shirt had blood on it, maybe Jack put up a good fight, and if they need a chair, they're obviously not finished.
Two men lifted Jack by the armpits into the metal chair, pushing him back hard against the back of the chair causing the front legs to tilt off the ground momentarily. His head fell foward which pitched his whole body toward his knees, nearly dumping him back onto the ground until one of the goons grabbed him by the back of the neck to pull him back upright.
Jack's arms dangled by his side, the suspiciously placed phalanx blood dots on the back of his fingers drawing Mac's attention. "Riley, does the number 473 mean anything to any of those locations?"
"Yes, one of the building addresses outside of Reno is 473."
"That's the one! Matty, that's the building." Mac raised his voice excitedly.
"Then let's go! Come on!" Matty headed toward the door, beckoning for the other three to follow. "You can TAC up on the plane. Get a move on!"
Wordless glances among the three younger agents were exchanged, and they followed their Director out the door to be part of the rescue op.
One man held Jack upright by the neck while another wrapped duct tape around his chest and the back of the chair, keeping him in place. They secured his hands behind his back, taping them together over the already mangled skin of his wrists. Finally each ankle was secured to a chair leg with a cruelly excessive amount of tape. He'd be lucky if he could still feel his toes. The henchmen all walked off screen, leaving Jack's unconscious form heaving with each strained breath.
On the jet, the warehouse feed remained on Riley's laptop. Nothing was happening on screen. She didn't want to touch it or be near it. She couldn't watch him struggle like that, blood streaked all over everything. What wasn't bloody was dark red with impending bruises blossoming underneath his skin. They had all the information they needed to retrieve Jack. No need to watch him this broken and defeated, he certainly would appreciate knowing that she didn't see him suffering.
Matty, Mac, Riley and Bozer strapped on TAC vests, all except Mac donning weapons. Mac himself attaching a MOLLE backed trauma kit to his front for whatever good it would do them now. He put a few other choice items into small packs on his back just in case he needed to improvise a thing or two. Their gearing up was a bit hasty, a needed distraction, but once they were dressed, there was nothing to do but sit and wait.
Bozer was the first to break the silence. "Hey Mac, where did you get that number, 473? Was that a psychic projection? Because now I know you two use weird codes and stuff, but the numbers...did he like run out of the room using a certain number of steps or something? I've still got my money on psychic connection."
"Actually," Mac seemed happy to explain, "Jack came up with this one." Mac held out his right hand and pointed to the tip of his first finger, "starting with the distal phalanx and working toward the knuckle, each phalanx represents a placeholder in a three digit number. Each finger represents a specific number. So the distal phalanx on my right pinky," he pointed to his fingernail, "represents the number 4, the middle phalanx on my left ring finger is the number 7, and the 3 is proximal phalanx on my right ring finger; that's what Jack had marked on the back of his hands."
Bozer shook his head, understanding but not comprehending.
"It's a little weird and convoluted, purposefully. No one is going to figure out that code on their own."
"But what if there were more than 3 numbers?" Bozer asked.
"There are rules for that too, but it's too complicated for right now." Mac smiled thoughtfully and looked at his fingers, picking at a rogue dry cuticle.
Riley asked the looming question, "he has blood all over his hands and wrists. Are you sure there was even a code? How do you know there weren't more numbers or different numbers?" Her worry was spiraling.
"I don't know...I just know. I have a good feeling. Maybe that psychic connection Bozer keeps talking about has some validity to it." Mac shrugged.
"Are you serious right now? Mr. Science guy is risking his best friend's life on a 'feeling' about a location? I'm about to fucking hit you right now!" Riley had fury and tears in her eyes.
"Riley! Everything we have, all of the information we've been given points to the same place. Based on probability, there's more than a 90 percent chance that that address is the one." Mac's frustration was evident in his voice as it grew louder. "If it would make you feel better, try different variations of a 4 or 5 digit number with the last digits being either 5 or 0 or both to account for the thumbs. If any of those numbers yield any result at all…" Mac's ran both hands through his hair, looking up to the roof of the jet for a moment before taking a deep breath before continuing, "it's just not likely. We're going to the right place." He stood and stormed to the bathroom to take a few moments for himself.
The sun was starting to set. Sancola hadn't exactly set a window of time for MacGyver to turn himself in, but he grew weary of the game they were playing. The longer they stayed there in the warehouse, the more time his enemies had to find them. They were no doubt working on some sort of rescue, but El Noche's crew had covered their bases. They had done everything possible to conceal their identities and location from the Phoenix...until the escape incident. Upon realizing their identities had been compromised, El Noche became furious. He marched to his prisoner, grabbing him by the hair and yanking his head upright. "You knew what you were doing!" He yelled.
Jack didn't respond at all, his jaw slack and eyes shut. El Noche stood slightly to the side, giving his audience a view of their friend; the blood marring so much of Jack's face, making him almost unrecognizable. Sancola pointed to something off screen, and one of his cronies retrieved a bucket. He yanked Jack's head all the way back as the other slowly poured a large bucket of water onto Jack's face. it was enough to choke him into waking up with a sputter and a cough.
His legs and arm muscles contracted as he tried to move, but was stuck in place. It took a moment to take in his surroundings as he hacked and gurgled, trying to expel the water from his lungs. His cracked ribs ached with each cough as he tried to catch his breath, seeing stars when he finally coughed deep enough to move some of the water until he passed out again from the effort.
El Noche poked him with the cattle prod, eliciting a weak groan but nothing more. He walked out of the frame and left Jack alone for a moment.
Mac returned to his seat a few minutes later, tugging on the bottom of his TAC vest as he sat back down. He could never understand how Jack looked and felt so comfortable wearing them over his regular clothes, to Mac it felt awkward and unnatural.
Mac sat forward in his seat when El Noche walked on screen. He tried to mentally prepare for whatever terrible things were about to happen. Mac knew they were running out of time, with 15 minutes till touch down, he was worried that they were too late. He tried not to look at his team and their reactions, tried not to look at the screen, focusing on the bottom right corner instead. He'd seen Jack at his worst, even in similar scenarios to this one, but it didn't make it easier or more tolerable; in fact, it made it worse. Mac knew Jack's limits, and while they were astronomically high compared to everyone else he'd even known, he was at his apex.
Matty kept a stern and unwavering expression, watching without blinking. Riley's tears streamed, but she was unable to form words as they manhandled and tried to drown her dad. Bozer was suddenly very interested in his shoes with his lips pursed trying to tamp down the panic every time he glanced at the screen.
Bozer cringed at the cattle prod hit that did nothing. "He's just playing possum again, right Mac? Y'all got a special code where you almost drown and cough real hard 3 times and then pretend not to wake up?"
Mac couldn't help but smile and cringe at the attempt to lighten the atmosphere. "Do you want me to lie and say yes?"
Bozer's reply was a sheepish, "yes."
"Then yes, we do." Mac flashed a grin that didn't reach his eyes and started to give a pep talk, but it was mostly to convince himself, "we're almost there, Jack is still breathing and I can tell you that he's survived worse. The TAC team is right in front of us. This nightmare is almost over, and we are going to win."
The TAC team landed first and loaded into a vehicle. Matty and the others touched down minutes later and filed into another vehicle. Their small convoy made it silently and undetected to their rendezvous site as Riley kept an eye on the video feed enroute. She saw one of the guys jab Jack in the thigh with an auto injector.
"Mac, they just injected something into his leg." She panicked.
"Probably epinephrine if they've been trying to wake him up." Mac answered matter of factly like this happens to Jack every day. "That's good, if he's alert the TAC team can locate him more easily."
"Ok then. I guess that's good." She closed the laptop as they all exited their vehicles to approach the building.
After the first bump of epinephrine, Jack still hadn't stirred. Assuming they had used a defective one, Sancola's little helper jabbed Jack's leg with a second auto injector.
Jack lifted his head with a surge of fleeting power, breathing hard and fast through clenched teeth. "Jezus fuck!" He yelled and coughed a few deep wet coughs. "Motherfucker, that hurts. You don't have to hit me any more, I'm spent. Tapping out. I give up. You win. Cartel forever. Woo! I'd raise my pompoms and cheer or throw up a white flag, whatever you want, but my hands seem to be taped behind me."
"Shut up!" Sancola yelled from another corner of the room.
"Aaaaw, you didn't leave me. I'm really feeling the love." Not one to waste a song opportunity, Jack loudly belted, "Can you feel the love tonight." Before going into a fit of wracking coughs.
One of the TAC team had a listening device pressed to the door, "Someone's singing." He announced quietly over the coms to everyone.
Riley suddenly exploded with silent emotion and tears, wrapping her arms around Mac as tightly as she could. They shared a teary glance and smiles before taking their position on the C side of the building while the TAC team prepared to enter the A side. With the TAC lead's cue, Mac cut the power to the building while the TAC team breached the door with a bang.
"Oh shit! Cavalry's here." Jack spoke aloud to himself, relieved as he tipped the chair as hard as he could to the side to knock it over and get lower to the ground to avoid friendly fire.
Mac flipped the lights back on less than a minute later and ran to the A side door. Sancola and all of his goons were each held at gunpoint by a team member as the other 4 Phoenix agents entered.
Mac and Riley closed the distance between the entrance and Jack with unheard of speed. Riley slid on her knees to where Jack was lying, she grabbed his face in her hands, "I've never been so happy to see you in my life." She started as tears flowed freely down her cheeks.
"Let's get you up and out of this chair." Mac announced from behind Jack.
"Oh God, Mac!" Jack turned his head as far as he could, just to try to get eyes on his partner to make sure he was there and not some weird hallucination. "I was sure you'd turn yourself over to these assholes."
"Can't say I didn't try." Mac told him, lifting the chair back to upright with Riley's help. He immediately started cutting the tape from behind to free Jack.
Jack asked Riley, "Didja knock some sense into him? Sit on him? Take away his car keys?" The relief was evident in his voice despite Jack's short rushed breaths. "Nah, he could make a car out of some driftwood, gum, and turpentine." His words were cut short by a coughing fit.
Riley tried to pull the tape gently from his bare chest, starting with his arms and going inward, hoping he was distracted enough not to notice, "nah, we just had him followed. Everywhere."
Mac rolled his eyes at her.
"I'm so glad y'all are here. I have to admit, I'd begun to give up hope that y'all were watching or that you missed my clues."
"Nope, we got them, loud and clear. That's how we found you." Mac announced.
Riley shook her head, still in disbelief, "I still can't believe you guys speak a whole other language that no one else even noticed." Riley leaned in for a hug as Mac cut Jack's hands free. He pulled her in tight, further comforting her with three heavy handed back pats. When she pulled away, her hair was stuck to the duct tape still across his chest. She plucked them back, one hair at a time while awkwardly leaning over.
"You just gotta rip it off like a bandaid." Jack told her.
"You or me?" She drew up her eyebrow with the question.
He matched her eyebrow raise with his own, "both. You first."
She yanked her hair back, leaving behind a dozen broken strands. He grabbed his tape and pulled it left to right with a gasp followed by labored panting.
"I thought I'd feel better," he coughed, "if I could move." Jack lamented. "How much longer...till I have my legs, Mac?"
Mac answered from underneath the chair, "just a second, but it looks like you've got a bullet hole in your leg, no exit wound. Probably shouldn't walk on it." He unwrapped the duct tape from Jack's jeans.
"Can't even feel it." He coughed more, having difficulty catching his breath. "Heart is racing. I guess this was...more down to the wire...than usual."
"Medevac will be landing in a minute to load you up." Mac put a steadying hand on Jack's shoulder. He thought he was reassuring Jack, but it was more for his own benefit. Every molecule in his body wanted to wrap his arms around Jack, hear his heart still beating, feel him breathe, and he was sure Jack wanted to so the same. But it would have to wait just a little longer since neither one of them was ready to have an emotional breakdown just yet.
"Can I walk out?" He breathed heavily two times, "show these fucksticks that they can't break Jack Dalton." He pleaded with doe eyes. "Plus I got two living breathing crutches right here if I need."
"Ok," Mac agreed reluctantly, "let's get you up." His kids flanked him on either side with hands ready as he stood. Jack stood up slowly and swayed, head dipping and jerking back up. "Hey, take it easy, big guy." Mac soothed with a hand on his back. "Lean on us if you need to."
The three hobbled through the warehouse toward the door where Medevac was landing outside. Matty was having a stare down with Sancola with her gun drawn. One of the TAC team was behind him securing the zip tie around his wrist.
"Hey boss lady." Jack nodded to Matty as they approached on their way out the door.
She turned her head toward him with a grin she reserved for infants and puppies. "Good to see you, Jack." She motioned to her own forehead with her left hand. "You've got a little something on your..."
Jack found the smudge of dirt on his forehead, the only place on his face that wasn't bloodied. He licked his finger to wipe it off and flashed a crooked but fond smile back at her, "Thanks."
Matty watched the three agents make their way out the door, then her smile dropped as she turned her attention back to El Noche. "I don't know how you got out again, but I'm going to make sure you and your entire cartel go down for good now. No one takes or even threatens my agents without my my wrath. We've gone easy on you before, but after what you did today, you are done."
"I'll get out, and I'll hunt down all of your agents this time." He spoke with venom.
"Oh really. Is that what you think?" Matty questioned with a tilt of her head
"I know." He replied.
"Ok then. We showed mercy by not taking out each and every one of your little crew today. We don't operate under the government, we are our own operation. No one knows we're here. We could put you all down like rabid animals and no one would know until someone smelled your rotting corpses in this building. And as much as I hate to admit it, I have a real soft spot for Dalton. If he happened to find out where you were being held, I don't think anyone would fault him for paying you a visit. To talk."
"I'm not afraid of you." Sancola stared her down for a moment and then spoke to one of his associates in Spanish.
"Are you fucking kidding me right now?" Matty chided. "You're seriously telling your guy over there to fight back and create a diversion in Spanish as if no one else in here speaks Spanish? Are you really dumb enough to think we're that daft? Or do you just want us to think you're stupid and catch us off guard. It's not an invalid tactic; I mean that is how we found you." She shook her head and sighed, "I need this idiot out of my sight before I do something he'll regret."
Sancola just sneered and lunged at her with a growl.
She didn't flinch, but she waited a moment and fired her Glock. He fell to the ground curling up around his middle, bleeding from the groin.
"No one messes with my agents, Mr. Sancola. And that," she indicated to his bleeding crotch, "was for messing up Jack's perfect little nose." He groaned and rolled on the floor. "And I'm sorry, there's no room on the Medevac, you'll just have to ride in the back of the paddy wagon with your little friends, but don't worry, if we find your dick on the ground, we'll put it on ice for you."
Mac and Riley helped Jack step into the Medevac helicopter. It was the biggest one they'd been on thus far, suitable for several patients, just in case the rescue didn't go as planned.
"All right, Jack, hop up." Mac directed him to the awaiting stretcher inside the aircraft.
"I'm good. Can I just sit in a chair?" Jack coughed a few times, it was wet and had a rattle, "I don't want to lie down, been kinda stuck in one spot for a while. Feeling antsy."
One of the medics, a red headed woman, shook her head with an apologetic smirk, "Sorry. But I will see what we can do about avoiding the straps. They're kind of required while we're in the air, but I think we can work around it. I'll angle the head so you can at least sit up."
Jack deflated like a disappointed toddler and took a seat. He scooted back until his legs fit on the bed. Mac and Riley took a few steps back to give them room, but didn't leave. Mac just needed to keep him in view, make sure he was really there. That was the only way for Mac to internalize that the nightmare was actually over. They were ALL safe. They were ALL going home.
"You're Jack, right?" the redhead asked him, and he affirmed with a single nod. "I'm Nadine. I've heard a lot about you." She didn't mean for it to come off as flirty as it sounded and blushed. She refused to make eye contact as she attached the leads to his chest. "They mentioned a possible GSW too?"
"Yeah." he bent the knee of his uninjured leg up toward him and pointed to the outstretched one. The male medic, whose credentials indicated his name was Justin, came to assess and dress the leg. Jack's pants were still uncomfortably damp which made it more difficult for Justin to cut the pants leg up to Jack's knee. Jack was sweating and breathing quickly, throwing out the occasional coughing fit. The heel on his bent leg bouncing up and down rapidly like a nervous fidget, but Jack had nothing to be nervous about.
Riley attributed it to the fact he'd been unable to move much for so long. She didn't like seeing him so twitchy and uncomfortable, and she really hated seeing his face so bloody, so she approached him while the medics did their thing. "Hate to bother you, but do you have something I can… like...clean some of this up with?" she asked no one in particular.
"We'll tend to the lacerations shortly, unless there's one that needs our attention now?" Nadine answered with distracted frown as she watched the trace of his heart rhythm on the monitor.
"No, I mean, yea there are some small ones, but most of this is from his nose. I just want to, like, wipe it off." Riley explained. Nadine tossed her some wipes with her free hand, the other curled around Jack's wrist, comparing his pulse rate with what the monitor was telling her. With the gentlest and most tentative touch, Riley started cleaning Jack's cheek. "Does it hurt? Is this ok?"
Jack chuckled, "Aren't you sweet? Tryin' to make your old pop look beautiful again."
Mac came out of nowhere with his unintentional dig, "gonna need a lot more than wipes for that."
Jack raised an eyebrow, "Ouch, and there's Mac out of the blue giving the 3rd degree burn."
"No, that's not what I meant." Mac backpedaled, "It's-it's broken."
"Well no shit, Sherlock." Jack's sassy head wiggle made him dizzier than he'd anticipated. "Maybe that's why I can't hardly breathe out of my nose and my whole face feels like it's on fire. But how's it look? Honestly?"
Mac's eyes widened at being put on the spot and he stammered. "Looks like…" he grabbed his phone and snapped a pic, flipping the phone around to show Jack.
Jack touched under his darkening eyes and pressed the tender area around his nose while looking at the still on the phone.
"Oh god. How am I ever going to pick up a woman looking like one of the Hanson triplets?"
Riley raised a questioning brow, continuing to gingerly wipe blood from his cheek, "that blonde mmm bop boyband from the 90s?"
"No!" Jack rubbed his free hand across his tightening chest, his other arm occupied by Nadine obtaining a blood pressure. Jack feigned anger and frustration, "the hockey players. From Slap Shot. You know, Paul Newman, a shitty hockey team, stripper music."
"I have no idea what your old people pop culture references are." She grasped his chin gently to turn his head toward her. Their eyes met and they shared an affectionate smile.
"Hey, Jack," Nadine interrupted the moment after exchanging a look with Justin. "Do me a favor, sit back, take a couple of deep breaths."
Mac's brow furrowed as he watched the silent communication between two partners, thrown into life and death situations daily, only rarely their lives and deaths. Justin watched the monitor for a few seconds before he turned back to his kit.
His eyes fell on Jack's, no longer distracted by the frank relief of the rescue, he now saw Jack's pale, sweaty face. The way Jack's chest heaved with each breath.
Jack met his eyes, and gave a small shake of his head.
Nadine tied a tourniquet around Jack's bicep as she prepared to start an IV. "How are you feeling?"
"Be honest, Jack," Mac said, his voice low with concern.
Jack coughed again. "Not- not so great." He closed his eyes as Nadine slid the needle into his skin.
"Can you be a little more descriptive?" Nadine asked, securing the port with tape and attaching him to fluids.
"Kinda feels like something is trying to bust out of my chest Aliens style."
"Short of breath?"
Jack coughed.
Justin wrapped a nasal cannula around his ears, situating the prongs in Jack's nose and cranking the flow rate.
"Your heart's racing away right now."
"That would explain it. Nadine, you set my heart a fluttering."
"More like sustained v-tach than fluttering. Jack, bear down. Like you're trying to have a bowel movement."
Jack's eyes widened, "oh honey, I haven't even seen a bathroom since yesterday, I wouldn't trust that move one bit."
"The action might induce a vasovagal response and slow your heart rate." She explained, diligently studying the monitors.
"Ooh I like when you talk dirty."
She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, with the serious look of his Nana holding the wooden spoon.
"Come on, Jack." Mac caught on and scolded him, knowing that Jack's playfulness was just him overcompensating for how truly awful he felt. "Let's drop the creepy old man joke routine for now."
Jack gave a pained, insulted look and obeyed, pressing down internally through his back and core. His eyes took on a glassy look before rolling back, eyelids fluttered closed.
"He's in v-fib," Nadine shouted as the heart monitor began wailing. "Get him flat."
"What's happening?" Riley jumped back, hands in the air as Justin pulled the emergency CPR handle that lowered the cot into a supine position and deflated the mattress into a firm surface. Nadine felt frantically at his neck. "Mac?" Riley's voice was frantic and fearful.
"No pulse," Nadine yelled as she lunged forward, hands in position on Jack's chest and began CPR.
Mac's eyes flitted around the aircraft, putting together the pieces and looking for anything to contradict what he was afraid of.
"Riley, grab the ambu bag," Nadine instructed between breaths as she continued compressions. "You're certified," she reminded, seeing the way Riley's face blanched at the request. "Make a 'C' with your thumb and forefinger to create a seal. Fingers under his jaw. Tilt his head back. Good," she encouraged. "When I get to thirty you're gonna give Jack two breaths."
Riley licked her lips and looked up at Mac as her eyes pleaded for reassurance and assistance.
"Mac's got a different job," Nadine caught his eye. "Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty."
Riley jumped hearing the countdown and squeezed the bag in succession, watching Jack's chest rise and fall. She pulled back the mask, sucking in her own breaths in double time as her palms began to sweat.
"Mac, you got a watch?"
He nodded, fingers tracing the watch face of the black Luminox on his wrist. A gift from Jack after the previous one, a constant reminder of paternal abandonment, became a sore spot between them.
"You're going to keep an eye on the time. Let us know when it's three minutes between med doses."
"AED is set up," Justin said. "Everybody clear."
Nadine grabbed Riley, making sure she wasn't touching the cot as Justin instructed them again to remain clear and delivered the shock.
Jack's body arched from the cot. Riley's back slammed into the wall, pulling away to distance herself from the painful reality she was witnessing. Mac stared at the luminescent green second hand of his watch, the action in his periphery unbearable.
"Alright, let's go," Nadine said, hands on Jack's chest again, pressing hard against his sternum. as Justin readied the medications to give to Jack.
Riley glanced down at Jack, listening to Nadine count aloud, and gave the next two breaths, tears blurring in her eyes. It seemed like the world stopped, like she was watching the action from afar. Riley's hands were not her own and that certainly wasn't Jack, the surreal scene playing out in front of her couldn't be…real. She blinked deliberately to acknowledge the nightmare so she could shake free from it and wake up; she almost missed his eyelids fluttering.
"He's awake," she yelled.
"Rhythm check."
Nadine turned to look at the monitor while Justin's fingers felt the pulse on his neck.
"Looks like ROSC. Jack, can you hear me?" Nadine's voice raised to command her patient's attention.
He moaned.
"Dalton," Nadine barked.
His eyes opened and searched the room, brow furrowed with confusion.
"Do you know your name?" Nadine asked, leaning further into his field of vision.
He answered confidently, "of course I know my name. Jack."
"Do you know what day it is?" She continued.
"No, not really."
"Do you know where you are?"
He pondered for a moment, "473."
Mac exploded with an audible sigh of relief. The medics exchanged puzzled glances until Mac clarified, "473 is the address on the building. He was never actually aware of our geographical location. That's great, Jack!"
"Mac, you ok?" Jack asked, searching for Mac blindly with his arm. Mac closed the distance with two giant steps, taking Jack's hand between his own, mindful of the broken skin and injured wrist.
"Yes, Jack, I'm fine." Mac met his eyes and couldn't hide the smile that reached all the way to his own.
Jack reciprocated with an equally affectionate grin, "you sure? 'Cuz you look like you've seen a ghost."
Riley ran her fingers gently through the front of Jack's hair, "he's fine, just worried about you."
He turned his attention to her, nuzzling into her hand before closing his eyes again, his smile faded with an exhaled puff.
"Jack?" The panic immediately apparent in Riley's voice.
The medics monitoring his stats didn't seem alarmed. "His rhythm is stable, he's just resting," Nadine reassured her.