A/N Wow! Thank you all for the wonderful reviews on this story! You have no idea how much each and every review means to me! :-) I hope you enjoy the fourth installment as much as the previous three! Next chapter should be up by Sunday! :-) And, once again, thank you to Gib and Ridley C. James for their invaluable input and advice! :-)

CHAPTER FOUR

The plan was for them to have a suite, allowing each to have their own room. Which was Mac's idea for the simple fact that for the past seven nights in a row he'd been surging awake in the middle of the night, terrified. Not exactly an image he wanted to portray, even to his best friend.

But apparently there was a big conference in town and the only thing available in the first hotel they stopped at was a single room with two king size beds. Absolutely no walls separating them to drown out Mac, should he wake with a shout in the middle of the night. To suggest they try another hotel would be to raise a lot of red flags for Jack, so MacGyver kept his mouth shut. Deciding to take extra measures to ensure he didn't have any nightmares that night.

So, he had a drink with dinner. Then another three while Jack sang Piano Man at some place called Dino's Lounge. Finally, Mac tossed back a couple shots of Tequila as Jack followed up the classic Billy Joel song with the tried and true Sweet Caroline.

Oddly enough, Jack ended up developing a fan base with those two songs and was asked to do an encore. Mac didn't even know they did that with Karaoke. Before that thought was even out of his brain, Jack was pulling him up on stage to join him in a really horrible rendition of Achy Breaky Heart by Billy Ray Cyrus.

After that, things got a little bit… fuzzy.

Jack draped MacGyver's arm across his shoulders and half dragged, half carried him through the lobby to the elevators, doing his best to not make too much of a spectacle of the poor kid. It wasn't until after the lobby that the trip became a bit more eventful.

Slumped against the wall of the elevator, Mac started murmuring something. Jack leaned down to hear him better but it didn't help—the murmurs were not only soft but also slurred. "What's that, brother?"

Mac's head shot up, startled, not even realizing his thoughts had made their way out of his mouth in the first place. Regrettably, the sharp movement made him sway a bit to the side as the confines of the elevator spun around him.

Jack splayed one hand across the slim chest and collarbone, pressing MacGyver firmly against the wall until he looked slightly more balanced. Then, he tried again. "You were saying something?" he smiled down at the slumped figure.

The kid peered up at him, as if trying to figure out if he was a dream or reality. Or perhaps simply trying to narrow multiple blurred 'Jacks' into one. "I'm sorry," he whispered, finally.

That was the last of Mac's energy, though. Before Jack could ask what the heck the kid was sorry for, he started to crumple to the floor. Jack acted quickly. He grabbed MacGyver by the wrist and pulled him forward, then bent down to drape the blond over his shoulders in one smooth movement.

When the ding signified they'd reached their floor, Jack was relieved to find the hotel hallway empty. It'd mean less mortification for Mac in the morning if no one was lookin' at him funny—not that anyone would. They were in Vegas, for pity sake.

As Jack exited the elevator with his precious cargo, he could vaguely hear the words to Achy Breaky Heart drifting up to him and chuckled softly. Okay, so not passed out yet, just really, really tired. Making his way down the hall, Jack muttered, "This is what happens after, like, three drinks? We need to get more meat on your bones to absorb the alcohol, ya' lightweight."

Laughing at his own joke, he just barely heard the slurred "You're a… light… weight" thrown back at him.

It took some extra skill to get the key card out of his pocket while balancing the kid on his shoulders, but he managed it. Unfortunately, once he got in the room and set Mac down on the floor, the genius who'd gotten himself drunk for the second time in a week for reasons not so far beyond Jack's comprehension, proceeded to vomit all over himself.

"Oops," Mac giggled, and as gross as the situation was, Jack's heart lightened at the sound of that laugh – allowing him to pretend that the kid wasn't almost drowning from the pressure of always feeling the need to keep himself together.

Sparky sat in a chair off to the side – switched off and charging.

Jack got Mac over to the bed furthest from the door, stripped him down to his undershirt and boxers, then tossed the clothes into a loose pile in the bathtub. He turned back in time to see Mac starting to tip backwards across the bed and rushed back over.

"Ah, ah, ah, not yet, brother." He grabbed the slack wrist just in time and pulled him forward, holding him against his chest with one arm as he yanked back the blankets with his free hand.

Cupping the back of Mac's head with one hand, he eased him down onto the mattress on his side, then pulled the blankets up over top of him. With his charge tucked safely into bed, Jack returned to the vomit and cleaned up what he could off the floor. Face scrunched up with disgust, he sprayed a hefty amount of room freshener directly on what was still in the carpet, then left the rest for the room attendant. He made a mental note to provide her with a generous tip upon their departure.

Finally, Jack was able to start getting ready for bed himself. He answered the call of nature, then changed into a pair of pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt. But as he pulled back the blankets of his own bed, he heard Mac start murmuring again. He paused and turned back to him, concerned another nightmare was on the forefront but the blond fell silent once again.

Resolving to ask the kid about these nightmares—not to mention, what he's so sorry about that he had to wait until he was drunk out of his mind to say it—Jack got into bed and fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

"Mac, help me!"

MacGyver spun around in a circle, seeking out the source of the plea which had an odd echo—as if two people were speaking almost simultaneously. "Where are you?"

A small part of him realized that he was dreaming and that it was a dream he was quite familiar with, but he continued to play his role in the dreamscape because to not do everything he could to save his friends would surely drive him to madness.

"Over here! Help me!"

The echo bounced around him, seeming to come from two different directions. Finally, he saw something in the haze of smoke surrounding him. He couldn't quite make it out but stepped towards it, anyway. Someone he cared about needed help but the voice was too garbled for him to know who.

A rumbling thunder sounded in the distance, getting closer by the second. He looked up but saw no dark clouds hovering above him.

"Mac, please!"

There! It came from behind him and this time, he recognized the voice. It was Frankie! He spun back in that direction, moving at a trot!

"Mac, I need your help!"

MacGyver skidded to a halt. "Jack?"

In front of him, the haze turned to smoke and bright yellow and orange flames licked out at him. Amidst the flame, Frankie reached one hand towards him. "Mac, help!"

Horrified, he took a step in her direction. "Mac, bud! I need you, man!"

The thunder increased in volume, seemingly directly overhead now, but still he saw no clouds. Just smoke; reflections of the flames colouring everything around him.

Mac spun to look behind him and almost tripped over Jack, stretched out on the ground at his feet. His eyes were closed, his arms crossed over his chest as if… "NOOO!" Jack's eyes snapped open and he fought at an invisible adversary, seemingly holding him in a vise-like grip. His desperate gaze found MacGyver. He shouted at Mac to help him but no voice could be heard! Mac lurched toward him, anyway! He had to get him out!

A deep rumbling beneath his feet knocked MacGyver to the ground. He looked up as a large oak tree grew impossibly fast next to him. Suddenly, the ground opened up and swallowed Jack, leaving behind no proof that he had ever been there in the first place! Mac dropped to his knees, digging frantically at the dirt with his bare hands. "JACK!"

The thunder was all around him now. It even seemed to come from within. Shaking him to his very core. Then he realized the thunder wasn't thunder at all. It was a laugh; a deep belly laugh—a laugh he would recognize until his dying day.

Frankie shrieked! Mac spun back around. The flames were devouring her now! "FRANKIE!"

He froze! Who was he supposed to help? He couldn't save both of them!

"What are you going to do now, Boy scout?"

Jack's eyes snapped open. Usually, his instincts came alive instantly upon waking. However, he'd had a few drinks himself during his latest karaoke soiree, the remnants of which had his mind a little groggy for the first 30 seconds of consciousness.

He knew a noise had woken him, but what? As he took in his surroundings, he listened carefully. Vegas. Mac's dad. Karaoke. Nightmares. There! He heard it again. Mac was murmuring in his sleep again; only this time, the words were frantic. Panicked, even.

Jack threw his covers back and covered the distance between the two beds in record time. "Mac?" he asked, sitting on the edge of the mattress and placing his hand on the kid's shoulder.

But MacGyver remained asleep, head tossing from side to side on the pillow. He kicked and squirmed beneath the blankets. "Jack!"

Hearing his name uttered with such fear and dread made Jack's heart plummet. The nightmare was about him? He turned on the bedside lamp, then shook Mac's shoulder with renewed urgency. "Mac, bud, come on, time to wake up!"

"Frankie!"

"Mac! Wake up, Mac! Come on, man, you're scarin' me here!" Jack patted his cheeks, immediately noticing the dampness. A closer inspection revealed the tracks of tears, some leading down to the pillow, others coming to an end at the jaw and falling away from there.

Finally, MacGyver woke with a shout, jackknifing to a sitting position in the same instant. His gaze found Jack, the blue eyes were filled with terror and pain. "Jack?" he choked.

Hearing the devastation in that one word, Jack couldn't stop himself from hooking one arm around the slender shoulders and pulling him forward to lean against him. He was surprised when Mac's arms immediately encircled him, hands scrabbling for purchase at his back. Sleep had swept away the kid's defenses like a powerful flood.

"You died," Mac sobbed against him.

"I'm right here, bud. Alive and well. An' I'm not goin' anywhere." Jack readjusted his hold, pulling MacGyver closer, anxious to provide whatever comfort he could before the walls were built back up.

A moment later, Mac was struggling against him. Sensing this was something other than pride taking over, Jack released him, then watched as the covers were kicked free and the kid stumbled into the bathroom. He followed, his heart breaking as Mac fell to his knees in front of the toilet and was promptly assaulted with dry heaves. Having vomited up his meagre dinner a few hours earlier, his stomach was now empty of everything but the alcohol.

A pained whimper pulled Jack from the role of observer and straight into father-figure. He grabbed a washcloth from the nearby towel rod, wet it with cold water, then hunkered down next to his young partner. He gently passed the cool cloth over the now fevered face and neck.

The fact that MacGyver didn't fight his ministrations but instead leaned into the touch was testament to the misery the kid was currently feeling. Jack hooked a finger under Mac's chin, urging eye contact. "You done?" he asked softly.

MacGyver wrenched his face from Jack's loose hold as another barrage overtook him. His arms which were braced against the toilet seat started to slip; his knees slid back, away from the base of the toilet.

"I'll take that as a 'no'," Jack muttered. Angling himself to kneel behind his friend, he hooked his arm around the slim waist, then cupped the clammy forehead in his other palm. Another whimper had Jack pressing his chest against MacGyver's back as if he could absorb the pain. "You're okay, kiddo," he murmured. "I gotcha, I gotcha."

After another long pause between dry heave attacks, Jack started to pull Mac way from the toilet but the kid fought him. "Migh' 'appen again," the blond intoned weakly.

"That's what trash cans are for," Jack told him, winning the fight and balancing his friend back against his chest while he passed the cloth over his face and neck again. Next, he manoeuvred MacGyver to his feet and helped him slowly return to his bed. Mac crawled beneath the covers on his own, then curled into a fetal position, cheeks tinged with pink.

Jack pushed the trash can closer to MacGyver's bed, then sat down on the mattress again, hip to hip. It was time they had a chat. "So, what were you dreamin' about?" Silence. "Well, you said my name in the midst of it." Mac made a move to turn onto his other side, which would put his back to Jack. "Hey," Jack said, easily pulling him back to face him. "If I played a starring role, I think I have a right to at least hear the synopsis, bro."

MacGyver folded one arm over his eyes, effectively ending the conversation.

"Fine, how about this… What are you sorry about?"

Okay, random. Mac pulled his arm away from his face and peered up at his friend. "Huh?" Admittedly, not the most intelligent response he'd ever come up with but he had no idea what Jack was talking about.

"You told me in the elevator that you were sorry about something."

Mac blushed as snippets of that elevator ride flashed through his memory; his devastation at hurting Jack a week earlier, collapsing and being folded over said Jack's shoulder to be carried to their room.

"Well?" Jack asked, yanking MacGyver back to the present.

"I, uh, was just sorry for hurting you last week. I don't know what it was that I did, but… I'm sorry."

"When did you…?" Jack canted his head to the side for a moment, then recalled the day Mac was talking about. He hated that the kid had apparently been lamenting over that for the past seven days on top of everything else he was going through. "Mac," he began.

Mac's phone suddenly chirped. Clearly anxious to find an exit from the pending conversation, the kid scrambled off the bed to find his phone. "Where are my jeans?" he asked.

"Oh, sorry," Jack said, jumping to his feet and rushing across to the washroom.

Curious, Mac followed and watched as his friend lifted the vomit-covered jeans out of the bathtub and slipped his hand carefully into each pocket until he found the phone. Mac glanced down at himself as another memory returned—throwing up on his clothes; Jack stripping him down to his boxers and t-shirt.

Believing that his mortification couldn't possibly get any worse, he snatched the phone from his friend's hand.

Knowing what MacGyver was thinking, Jack defended his actions. "What was I supposed to do? Let you sleep in your own vomit?"

"Maybe," Mac mumbled, not really meaning it but not knowing what else to say. He was a grown man and seemed to keep putting himself in situations which required Jack to treat him like a child.

"Never gonna happen, dude," Jack told him firmly.

MacGyver's lips quirked. Despite the embarrassment, it was nice to know someone always had your back. He looked up, locking eyes with his best friend. "Thanks, Jack."

Offering up a sincere smile that he hoped conveyed everything he was thinking but unable to voice, Mac returned his attention to his phone and pushed the button to light up the screen. "It's a text from Matty," he said, as Jack moved to his side to read the cryptic message over his shoulder.

'I put in for a short leave of absence and will be incommunicado for a while. Please, don't look for me. I'll contact you when I can.'

TBC