Jack was shooting his way through El Noche's men. A machine gun was no enemy for him and his pistol, but the men couldn't have known this. They couldn't have known that you shouldn't get in the way of Jack Dalton. Especially when he's on the run to save his Mac!
In the living room he found the armchair. Cut duct tape was still stuck on it. Is this where – Mac!
Fanatically he turned around, searching for his blonde boy. A lackey made the mistake to show up right at that moment and ended his life with a bullet of Jack's pistol. Desperation filled his heart as Jack kept on turning and turning. Where is he?
Then he recognized the man rushing down the stairs. Without thinking Jack followed. A glimpse of hope, not more, but maybe Mac was down there. His speed almost made him fall down the concrete stairs. Jack felt the air getting colder. It was summer in Mexico, so he felt like going in a refrigerator. It was chilly. Jack wasn't entirely sure it was because of the temperatur difference or a scary premonition.
The man was still a little ahead as Jack entered the basement hallway. The man disappeared in a room. Jack closed up.
Mac!
His boy on the floor. Taped limbs. Teary and sweaty. And life fading from him!
Jack was so flooded with too many stimuli at once he acted like in trance. His weapon came up, the man came down on the concrete floor, already a red lake starting to form. And even though Jack sprinted as his life depends on it, he felt like walking in time laps.
Endlessly slowly he came down next to his boy. Mac wasn't even struggling anymore. Only a little twitching visible. Sounding like he was suffocating.
Jack gripped the mask and ripped it from Mac's face. He didn't know why, but he had the idea, that this was draining the life out of his boy. But still, Mac was suffocating. Mac's lids were down half way, tears leaking out and Jack could see to his shock, that Mac's eyes where slowly rolling back.
No no no no no!
Jack rolled Mac on his back, instinctively starting rebreathing. Mac was unconscious, his breast only moving when Jack blowing air inside his lungs. Mac wasn't breathing on his own!
No no no no no!
After 4 rows Jack felt for a pulse. Mac's heart was racing like hell – but it was there. But he still wasn't breathing on his own. Jack kept going, tears in his eyes. He waited so long for his boy, was so desperate to find him. Now that he had him back he was about to lose him again?! Right in his arms?!
No no no no no!
Jack could still hear the battle from the upper floors, heard the SWAT team arresting El Noche. But he was not happy. He was crying as he gave Mac's lung blow after blow.
No no no no no!
After what felt like an eternity, Mac made a small breath by himself. Way to small, but still! Relief filled Jack's heart, a joy he never felt before. Clumsy he fell back on his butt, no force left in his body he sacked down. Mac was breathing! With a hand he rubbed over his face, cleaning it from the sweat and tears. His fingers fisted his lips as Jack let the tears flow.
Slowly Jack reached out for his boy. "Mac?", he whispered as he slapped Mac carefully on the cheek a few times. But Mac was dead out, just to exhausted to open up his eyes for his life saviour.
Peep – Peep – Peep
The sound of medical instruments brought Mac to the living world. He felt like he had been sleeping for years, his body numb, eyes heavy. He felt light, a sedative maybe. He swallowed hard. No salvia to wet his dry throat. It hurt. He groaned.
The left side of his body was way to heavy. He couldn't even move his arm. Curiosity was winning over the deadly fatigue and Mac opened up his eyes.
Jack was sleeping on his left, head on Mac's hip, hand clamping around Mac's left.
So I am home.
He let himself fall on the pillow again. It was so fluffy.