"Mac!"
Jack jerked awake. Surprised he blinked. He hadn't even recognized he had fallen asleep. But he was up for more than 24 hours now.
Jack brought his hands up to his face, they were shaking as he wiped off the sweat.
Mac.
Jack looked around in the room, terror in his eyes. He had fallen asleep on the couch and of course his dreams drifted to his buddy. The buddy he lost. The buddy he wasn't able to protect. The buddy he hadn't been there for. The buddy he's now not there for.
Jack got this strange feeling, that Mac was fighting for his life right now and that wasn't making his feeling of failure and guilt any better. Desperate he jumped up, turning around a few times, trying to focus on something, almost feeling like the tracks would hide themselves in the sheer air around him.
"Where are you? Where are you? Where are you?"
Over and over he repeated the sentence. But there was no answer in the air around him.
His desperation turned itself slowly in raw anger. His hands ripping his hair he let out a growl as he reached for a chair. With a loud crash it connected with the wall, accompanied with a scream of pure agony.
Outside in front of the door Riley flinched, tears in her eyes.
Mac wished he would have stayed out a little longer.
As he was slowly coming into awareness of his surroundings, he felt a heat he had not felt this day. It wasn't the kind of heat he was exposed to when he passed out in the trunk he was transported in, it was the kind of heat that made his skin sting. As he slowly opened his eyes with a lot of blinks it suddenly hit him – it was the sun. He was exposed to the sun.
Just now he recognized he wasn't sitting in the chair anymore. Instead he was lying on his side, hard floor beneath him. He blinked as the sun was blinding him, but still he could make out his surroundings. He was at the terrace of El Noche's hideout.
As he stretched himself, he found his hands and feet tightly bound. A look down his legs he spotted the silver glance of duct tape. His hands were fixed behind his back. He struggled to free them, but there was no give in. With his fingers Mac tried to get a grip of the tape, but he didn't manage to do so. And not just because of the way his hands were bound but more as the result of constant lack of oxygen. His brain was practically out.
The pain.
Mac growled as he remembered the feeling of the cattle prod that had been pressed to his stomach. Although he didn't see his skin, Mac knew it was red like hell. It was stinging like hell. His breath sped up.
"Hello, little American."
His breath stopped.
El Noche crouched once again in front of him. Thankfully he was blocking the sun right now that had been shining in Mac's face. But if he would have had the choice, he would rather be blended by the sun again than having El Noche's grim smile right there.
"You know, little American", El Noche's broken English came, "I'm impressed by your strength, I must give you that. Everyone else would be dead."
Mac let out a little laugher. "So I should be happy?!" Mac was shocked by his own voice, broken and hoarse. But he tried to cover up.
Somehow it worked as El Noche slapped Mac's shoulder in aprovement. "I like you, little American", he said, "It's a shame that I have to kill you if you don't want to talk with me about a few things."
Mac swallowed hard and kept his mouth clenched shut. Unknowing his breaths got deeper and longer as in hope to get some kind of reserve of oxygen. El Noche was a pro in waterboarding and choking his victims, so Mac knew he was going to need the extra oxygen sooner or later. And like his little talk with the Boss was going he would need it sooner than he wished for.
"Who are you?"
Mac glared at him. Should he answer? Why not just saying his name? It wouldn't hurt at all actually. What would the Boss even do with his real name?!
"Little American", he answered.
No! Mac would never give in and say his name! He won't give El Noche the satisfaction and the glory he wanted. The glory of having broken him. He was a trained agent, he was trained not to give in to torture. He was trained to keep every information. He was trained to stay strong for the team.
Jack!
With a loud splash Mac was kicked into the pool. The cold water took him by surprise and drove out every bit of air of his lungs. So much for getting a little reserve! And with his hands and feet tightly bound with tape, Mac wasn't even able to swim or move himself towards the surface. He was actually drowning!
Panic was settling in, but then his feet connected to the floor of the pool. He pressed himself upwards. Surprised he found himself only in belly-bottom-deep water.
Coughing hard water came out of Mac's mouth. His whole body was shaking as he tried to free his lungs from the water. His wet hair was clinging to his forehead. He almost vomited. In short gasps he drew in some oxygen, but then he felt a hand in his neck and his head was speeding downwards towards the water again.
One of El Noche's men who had followed Mac into the pool was about to press him under the water again. The moment Mac's face connected to the surface, he panicked. Still coughing and spitting out water he wasn't even ready for another diving session. He struggled and trashed as the water filled his lungs because his body was still crying for breath.
Then he remembered his feet. With an unknown source of power he pressed upwards, supported by his legs. Surprisingly he actually was able to lift his head a bit. His neck was aching as he pulled every bit of strength together and got his head out of the water.
Air!
As fast as he could, Mac gasped for air. In short breaths he tried to fill his lungs again, still fighting the hand on his neck. But he knew he was on losing point as his body began to shake, both of cold and lack of energy.
He noticed a second shadow coming from the left and Mac braced himself for another hand on his neck, but then his feet were harshly gripped from behind. They lost their grounding and Mac splashed hard into the water. His face began to sting, but that was his smallest problem. Now he wasn't even able to move anymore!
With no arms to fight his body up again and tightly grabbed feet he was truly hopeless. He jerked and trashed in a furious way, slinging his body from left to right, trying to kick out, but he had no change. He tried to get his head up, but as his torturer noticed his efforts, he only pressed Mac down even more, one hand on his shoulders. Now Mac's body was practically headed downwards with his feet being the highest point.
After what felt like forever, Mac was pulled up. He just hang in his torturer's arms, dangling only a few inches above the water surface, drops blurring his own reflection on the water, some blond strands still remaining under. Mac was even to tired and far of to jerk anymore or coughing out the water in his lungs.
"Name."
The next time his face connected with the surface, he didn't even realized being pulled up again. The water closed around him like a welcoming darkness.