Title: Boom + Mac = Papa Jack

Author: dragonfly

Genre: angst, h/c

Characters: MacGyver, Jack Dalton, Wilt Bozer, little bit of Matty and Riley

Warnings: none

Summary: An injured MacGyver wakes to a perilous situation and must completely rely on his friends to keep him alive and get him home.

A/N: I kept the Angst-o-Meter relatively low on this one. Cuddle Count, however, is off the charts.

Disclaimer: I don't own MacGyver or any of the characters from the show. I'm not a doctor, nor do I play one on tv.

~*~M~*~

MacGyver came to, coughing and heaving, as the world tilted. Shivering violently, pain cut through him. There were hands on him, blistering hot against his frozen skin. He became vaguely aware that his shirt was being pulled off—but before he could even muster a sound of protest, something heavier was draped across his shoulders and someone quickly maneuvered his arms through the sleeves. Everything was distorted and muted, aside from the pain and his body's desperate attempts for air. But he recognized by the smell that whatever was put on him meant that he was safe. His heavy hand fumbled for the thick material over his chest, and he latched onto it and the familiar, comforting, combination of gun oil and Old Spice.

Jack.

He felt himself being shifted, handled, moved¼but everything seemed so far away. Even his own voice felt beyond reach.

A slight pressure met both sides of his face. Someone was speaking, but he couldn't–

"...me, Mac—"

Jack. He tried to say his name, but it got swallowed by the pain, consumed by the darkness taunting him.

"Mac, come back to me."

He wanted to, but he didn't know how.

And then everything disappeared.

~*~M~*~

"Mac. Mac, we gotta go."

Bozer.

There was an urgency to his voice as gunshots echoed in the distance. Hands were gripping, tugging at him. MacGyver automatically tried to help, but his legs wouldn't work, and he crashed to his knees. Pain exploded; like a thousand cracks in the ice up through his body. He cried out and would have crumpled completely to the ground if not for Bozer's quick reflexes.

"I got you. I got you, bro."

A shiver tore through him as he was held against his friend's chest, chin hooked over his shoulder. "'mm, mm cold," he tried to tell him, confused as to the reason, confused about a lot of things, but he wasn't sure any sound really made it past his lips.

"I know you are, man." Bozer sounded apologetic as he rubbed a hand up and down his back. He also sounded out of breath. And scared.

"H-hap-pening?" MacGyver coughed and realized how breathless he was himself. Still, he tried to move again. He needed to find out what was going on, why he was in so much pain, and make sure that no one else was…but his body refused to cooperate.

"I can't get him up, Jack." There was a pause. "Okay, hurry."

Jack.

MacGyver blinked, trying to force his eyes to focus. Rocking his chin on Bozer's shoulder, he looked for his overwatch. His vision swam. He thought he saw a blanket of white and a river, but when the world suddenly spun into something completely unrecognizable, he squeezed his eyes shut. "Jack?" He was surprised by how weak and hoarse his voice was when he tried to call for him. It was instinct to seek him out when the world didn't make sense. When he was scared. "Jack?" And he was scared.

"He's on his way. He had to¼take care of a few things."

MacGyver leaned to the side and threw up.

~*M*~

He became aware again as something warm and soft was being pulled down over his head. He was still on his knees, propped up against¼ "Bo-?" He gasped and coughed hard, pain spiking through his head, chest and throat.

"Stay with us, Mac. We're getting you out of here."

He tried to open his eyes when larger hands quickly took his one by one and slid something over them; enveloping them in warmth, but his eyes now—like the rest of his body, wouldn't cooperate.

"I got him."

Jack.

MacGyver felt himself being shifted away from Bozer. He again tried to get his arms and legs to work, but they were still weak and uncoordinated at best.

"Hang tight, hoss—we're gonna get you somewhere safe."

Jack.

MacGyver tried to do something, anything, but he couldn't.

"Pants?"

"Got 'em, but we don't have time. We'll have to leave what he has on for now."

Jack was gentle as he pulled him over his shoulder, but pain still ignited everywhere, head and stomach spinning. It was too much. It was all too much. A sound escaped MacGyver that he knew he could never get back.

"I know, sorry, sorry." Jack sounded like something was hurting him, too. "Just hang in there, bud, all right? I've got you. Jack's got you."

MacGyver could feel them start to move, his arms swaying in time with Jack's steps.

"He's hurting and has no idea what's happening, Matty. No, he's not all right. Ri, where we going?"

MacGyver tried to open his eyes–this time to look for Matty and Riley, but once again lost the battle.

"Boze, you take point."

And as Jack picked up the pace, everything faded back into nothingness.

~*M*~

"While I appreciate the accommodations, Ri, maybe next time you could find a place that has a larger selection of clothing." With MacGyver out of his wet clothes, it was Jack's turn. Options had been limited.

"Sure, Jack—there's plenty of abandoned cabins in the middle of Nowheresville, Nowhere in a country I can't even find on the map to hide out in. How much further would you like to hike in a foot-and-a-half of snow with another two about to be dumped on you?" she bit back through comms.

"All right, all right, I'm sorry."

Everyone was testy. Everyone was worried.

"Maybe hot pink is masculine in this country," Bozer offered distractedly as he quickly searched for more blankets in the abandoned, dilapidated cabin they were hiding in.

"Oh, trust me, in no country is hot pink considered manly."

"Actually, Jack, pink used to be considered too masculine for girls. It wasn't until circa 1950's in the U.S. that gender colors started to be assigned to babies and actually used to be the other w–"

"Uh, yeah, thanks, Ri, but I don't need a history lesson right now," Jack cut in as he peeled off his wet and nearly frozen stiff pants. They had gotten that way when he pulled MacGyver's lifeless body out of the river.

"No, as the Team Oven, you need to get over here before Mac's temperature drops further." Bozer shook out another dusty blanket and added it to the pile already on his friend.

Jack hastily finished changing into the brightly colored sweats, glad they were thick and warm despite the strain they put on his eyes. He only had time to steal one pair of pants from the illegal arms dealers trying to shoot their heads off. As they were a thicker pair, they automatically went to his partner. Hurrying to MacGyver's side, he sat next to him on the small bed, moved aside the blankets, and started unzipping the parka, his parka that he had put on him. His fingers shook as he tugged on the zipper–more from the adrenaline dive and what had happened than it was from the cold.

Making a noise in the back of his throat, MacGyver rocked his head on the worn, dirty pillow.

"He's waking up, guys." Jack hesitated when he saw the bruises that had already started forming on MacGyver's chest. "Christ."

"You didn't have a choice, Jack."

"Doesn't make me feel any better, Boze," he returned grimly, unzipping the parka the rest of the way.

Making a sound of protest when the cold air hit him, MacGyver weakly pushed against Jack's hands.

"Easy, take it easy," Jack quickly soothed. "You're all right. I got you."

MacGyver's chest wasn't the only place covered in bruises. It didn't appear that much of him had been spared. In addition to the many small cuts and contusions, he had a large laceration along his side that was currently being held together by Bozer's scarf. Jack had made fun of him for wearing it on a mission but had been more than grateful to have it on hand to help his boy. A smaller piece of his scarf was wrapped around MacGyver's head where he had a very concerning wound above his ear. It worried Jack the most. So much so that his gut hadn't stopped churning since noticing it.

MacGyver made a feeble attempt to curl into himself, but Jack easily held him in place as he checked the worst of his wounds. They would both need stitches, but the bleeding had mostly stopped.

"How's he doing?" Matty wasn't the patient type—especially when it came to an injured member of her team.

"He's…not exactly with us yet." Bozer answered, kneeling next to MacGyver's side. "Mac? Mac, can you hear me?"

Trembling and still weakly pushing against Jack's ministrations, MacGyver's blue eyes finally, sluggishly, opened.

Jack's stomach dropped. "Mac?" He cupped the side of his face–the side not bloodied, and brushed his thumb across MacGyver's chilled skin. "Hey, Mac, you with us?"

Brow furrowed, MacGyver looked at Jack. Blinked. Then closed his eyes again.

Bozer gave Jack an anxious look. "I think we can put a checkmark in the concussion box."

"Yeah," Jack's own frown deepened. "All right, buddy, hang in there, we're gonna get you warmed up." Carefully, he lifted the injured man up to his chest, who, despite his altered state, immediately relaxed against him. "That's it, brother. I got you." Jack briefly pressed his cheek against the cold temple, before working quickly with Bozer to remove his parka. Then shifting MacGyver with him, he settled them at head of the bed.

Shivering, MacGyver curled into Jack's bare chest.

"Christ, he's freezing." Jack shuddered himself, even as he wrapped his arms around him.

Bozer watched with worry as he draped Jack's parka over them both, along with a pile of blankets. The cabin didn't have electricity, but it did have a fireplace. Unfortunately, they couldn't risk the smoke being seen and their hideout being discovered.

Jack looked down at the battered, pale body. If he were being honest with himself, he was terrified. He had nearly lost him. And even now, as MacGyver shook, bruised and bloodied in his helpless arms, he feared that he still could. "He'll be all right," he found himself saying aloud.

"How can you be so sure?" Bozer's voice wavered with uncertainty, knowing how bad their situation, Mac's situation, was.

"Because he has to be."

~*~M~*~

"–ill cold..."

"else–do..."

Consciousness kept fading in and out; like his brain was trying to come back online but was short-circuiting.

"-ac, Mac-ith us?" Jack's voice rumbled in his ear.

He was cold. So cold it hurt. And then there was another whole level of pain. It took him a moment to get his eyes to cooperate. When they finally did, he groaned and closed them again–the pain in his head unbearable.

"No, hey, come on, buddy, we're gonna need more than that."

MacGyver turned his face into something warm, something soft, something... "J'ck?"

"He speaks!"

MacGyver groaned again, this time in protest to Jack's voice.

"Oh, hey, sorry, man...I just got a little excited."

"You've been out for a while, Mac." Bozer's voice was much softer, but heavy with worry. "And the last time you were awake—"

"Happen'?"

"You don't remember?" Both asked in unison.

Images raced through MacGyver's mind, but they were fragmented and confusing. "It..." he swallowed, throat scratchy and burning—was there any part of him that had been spared from…whatever had happened to him? "it...went boom," he finally croaked, unable to find the right words, unsure what they should even be. "Cold," he then somewhat whined. He couldn't help it. He was miserable.

"I'm pretty sure you went a little boom there, yourself, kiddo." Jack fussed with the blankets over him. "And you're a livin,' breathin' popsicle. We've been tryin' to get you warmed up."

There was something in Jack's voice… something that told MacGyver way more than his words did. He didn't even have to open his eyes and look at him to know. Because he knew what every tone of Jack's voice meant, even when he was trying to disguise it. "Bad," he determined simply, exhaustion and pain thickening his own voice. He couldn't remember that last time he had felt so horrible. But he could remember the last time Jack had sounded so scared:

Cairo.

"Nah," Jack attempted to reassure anyway. "Matty's sending us an exfil and you'll be all patched up and snug as a bug under Bozer's culinary thumb before you know it."

MacGyver brought a trembling hand up to rub his eye. He could feel how bad it was. How bad he was. "You?"

"Bozer and I are fine. You, however, dinged your head pretty good, hoss."

"Boze?"

"Right here, man." Bozer laid a hand over his back. "Is there something wrong with your eyes?"

"Mmm," MacGyver continued to rub at them.

"Your vision blurry, Mac?" Jack inspected his eyes, gently pulling at the lids. MacGyver tried not to squirm away. "Damn. Mac, your eyes hurtin' you?"

He went back to rubbing them. "Some–someth' in 'em."

Jack pulled his hand away. "I think you got flash burn, bud."

"What does that mean?" Bozer sounded like he was on the verge of panicking.

"It means what we already know, Boze." Jack sighed. "We need to get him to a hospital."

Not feeling terribly concerned about anything more than getting warm, MacGyver turned his face back into Jack's chest. There was a part of him that nagged at him to stay awake, to get up, to do something…but it was distant, so distant, and Jack...Jack was so warm.

"Boze, you think you can find something clean around here to wrap Mac's eyes with?"

"Uh..."

MacGyver heard a ripping sound, then Jack was wrapping something around his head. He brought a hand up to inspect whatever it was, but it was gently pulled away.

"Easy, Mac, we need to keep your eyes covered."

"Somethin' in 'em," he complained again.

"It just feels that way," Jack explained patiently, securing the cloth. "You gonna leave this on for me?"

It helped with the ache in MacGyver's eyes, with the ache in his head. "Happened?" he asked again, suddenly feeling lightheaded.

Jack cupped the back of his neck, and it somehow instantly grounded him. "You, uh, you took a dunk in the river, Mac."

"After getting blown up," Bozer added. "Like a lot."

MacGyver brushed shaky fingers over the pain in his side and across his chest.

"You got cut up a bit, and Jack had to perform CPR on you," Bozer explained grimly. "Something I'm sure will haunt me in my nightmares for the rest of my life."

"You and me both, brother."

"Hurts." MacGyver lightly traced fingers along the pain that encompassed the side of his head. Someone pulled his hand away and tucked it back under the blankets.

"You got banged up pretty good, kid."

Body feeling impossibly heavy, MacGyver felt himself start to drift.

"How much longer, Matty?" Bozer sounded about as unhappy as MacGyver had ever heard him.

Before he could learn of her response, a violent shiver tore through him, and he tried to burrow more into Jack as the reaction to his body being so cold was followed by a tsunami of pain. He gritted his teeth against it, which only made the pain in his head worse. The next thing he knew, he was swallowing bile, trying to keep himself from being sick…and everything was spinning. He would have cried had he had the energy to. He just wanted it to stop. He just wanted it all to stop.

Jack must have caught on to his distress because he started to murmur something and rub his hand across his shoulders and up and down his back. Some of the words eventually started to pierce through his discomfort. "Slow, deep breaths like me, hoss," Jack demonstrated with his own breathing.

MacGyver followed suit, always instinctively trusting his partner—even when scared…especially when scared. Eventually the spinning stopped, and the nausea abated. He felt himself start to drift again. He was so tired. He was so cold. He….

"We're still miles from the border– fireplace – location–storm—"

"– don't know – goons –pissed off pre–good–"

"– warehouse..."

"– storm—comms – breakin' – understand–"

"Mac–"

"-ac?"

MacGyver frowned.

"You with us, man?"

Everything was in pieces and not making sense, including his memories. All he could remember was fire, ice, boom... "Boom." His eyes drifted open briefly to darkness before closing again.

~*~M~*~

"His shivering is easing up a bit now. That's a good sign, right?" Jack was still holding onto MacGyver– who had well and truly passed out about an hour ago.

"Yeah, maybe," Bozer returned, subdued.

They were both scared and sick of feeling helpless. If MacGyver hadn't been the one injured, he already would have come up with a plan to get them out of there by now; probably created a device to stop the snow, or something.

"I never would have thought a few old ceramic pots, candles and a brick could produce that much heat. Way to go, Boze." Jack was trying to stay positive but was falling short.

"Thank Mac. He showed me this little trick years ago. I just hope I did it right."

"Well, if you ask me, you did. It's definitely warmer in here than it was before."

Bozer's worried eyes locked onto MacGyver. "We should wake him." They couldn't let him sleep long with a concussion.

"Yeah, I know."

But they both feared what neither would voice: the very real possibility that they wouldn't be able to. Not even considering everything else his body had been through, his head injury…it was bad. Being unable to wake MacGyver was a possibility that neither of them were ready to face.

"How's his breathing?"

"He started to wheeze about thirty minutes ago," Bozer told Matty worriedly. Their comms had been going in and out because of the snowstorm. It was a relief to hear her voice again, to have someone to talk to outside of their situation. She and Riley were their only link to Mac's safety, to home.

"I was afraid of that. We need to keep in mind that MacGyver's lungs might have been compromised from not just the smoke, but from any water he may have breathed in."

Jack clenched his jaw. "What's the ETA on that exfil, Matty?" He was way beyond anxious now. His boy needed medical attention and he needed it hours ago.

"That depends on the blizzard currently bombarding your location. It's something we'll have to play by ear. I hate it as much as you do, Jack."

MacGyver's breath hitched and he rocked his forehead against Jack's chest.

"Mac?"

He came to fighting.

"Whoa, hey, hey, it's just us." Jack tightened his arms around him; trying to keep him from falling off the bed. "Man, he's weak, but he's wiggly."

"Mac, it's okay," Bozer hovered close, unsure how to help, "you're safe."

Panicking, MacGyver pawed at the material covering his eyes until it came off.

"What's going on?"

"We don't know," Jack told Riley. "Stand by." Sitting up with him, Jack turned him slightly so that he could see him better. He cupped the side of his face even as MacGyver pushed weakly against his chest; blinking hard, unable to focus, scared, confused. "Mac," Jack called soft and steady–despite the terrified pounding of his own heart. "Mac, come on, now, come back to me, brother. It's just your boys here, all right? You're safe, hoss." He pressed their foreheads together. "You're safe."

MacGyver stilled and the panic on his face turned into uncertainty. "Jack?" he asked, but no sound came out. Then instead of pushing at Jack, he was digging his fingers into his arm with one hand and reaching for his eyes with the other.

"You gotta leave them be." Jack intercepted MacGyver's hand. "You remember where you are?"

Furrowing his brow, MacGyver shook his head—then looked like he regretted doing so. "Ugh," Pressing his forehead into his palm, he folded into himself. The bruises that covered him were a shocking contrast to his too-pale skin.

"You dinged your head hella hard, bud," Jack reminded him. "We're waiting for exfil."

Eyes closed, MacGyver fisted the side of his head and stilled.

"Mac?"

"Boom," he breathed, as if remembering.

"Yeah," Jack returned somberly, wrapping his arms around MacGyver when he then leaned forward into his chest, "boom."

"You doin' okay, Mac?" Bozer asked softly.

Head on Jack's shoulder, brow furrowed in pain, MacGyver looked to be concentrating solely on his breathing.

"Bozer made some warm…honey water, think you can get any of that down?" The honey had probably been there since before the country was, but it was honey. And as Bozer had just previously informed him when he balked at the suggestion of eating it, honey didn't typically spoil. "Might help soothe that throat of yours some."

When MacGyver still didn't respond, Jack thought he had fallen back to sleep…until he heard his name. It was meek and barely more than a breath, but the single word—just his name—instantly put tears back in Jack's eyes and added an impossible heaviness to his already heavy heart. "Yeah," he rasped honestly, knowing what he sought, the truth choking him up. "Yeah, it's bad, hoss. But you're gonna be all right. I just need you to hang on a little bit longer for me."

"Hurts."

Jack's heart sank further under the weight of his helplessness. "I know." He pulled the fallen blankets up around MacGyver. "But ole Jack Dalton here is gonna make sure you fixed up, all right? Then when we get home, I bet you Bozer will make you some of his famous chicken dumplin' soup."

Bozer wordlessly nodded, tears bright in his eyes, too.

MacGyver blinked lethargically…once…twice…before falling back to sleep.

~*~M~*~

He was in and out of it for hours, but his body temperature slowly started to rise back towards normal. They decided to keep the cloth they had used around his eyes off, as he mostly slept anyway—and it just made him panic more when he woke. Near dawn, Jack slid out from underneath MacGyver to stretch his legs, finish getting them both dressed, check the perimeter, and have a private conversation with God.

Upon returning, he found Bozer kneeling next to MacGyver—who was on the floor. They both looked like they were about to throw up.

"Bozer?" He rushed over. "Wh—?"

MacGyver had his eyes squeezed shut, and he was gripping the side of his head, panting in obvious pain.

"Mac?" Jack dropped next to him, "Mac, talk to me."

"He woke up confused again," Bozer explained apologetically. "I couldn't keep him on the bed."

Jack laid a hand over MacGyver's shoulder. "Mac?" His breathing was labored and Matty's cautioning words about his lungs dug into his heart. "Mac, you with me, bud?"

MacGyver reached out in the direction of his voice.

"Here, I'm here." Jack moved closer and pulled him into his arms.

Settling against Jack, MacGyver kept a hand against his head as if trying to will the pain away.

"Wish I had something to give you, brother," Jack told him regretfully, hating to see him hurting so much. "When we get home, I'll make sure they don't hold back on the good stuff."

Something in MacGyver's breathing suddenly changed.

"Mac?"

And one small, difficult breath turned into another.

"Mac?"

And just like that, he wasn't getting air.

"Mac?!" Jack spared a glance up at Bozer—panic in both of their eyes. "What's happening?"

Bozer briefly shook his head, then paled. "Secondary drowning," he realized.

"What?!" Jack looked down at his partner who had started weakly pawing at him as he wheezed and coughed. "Nonononono." Jack hefted him up from where he had slumped against him. "Mac? Mac!" This couldn't be happening. Not this way—not after everything they'd been through. But they had no means to help him. No drugs. No medical interventions. All they had was each other.

"Mac," Jack's voice shook, and his heart pounded as loudly as MacGyver's desperate attempts to draw breath, "Mac, now I need you to listen to me, all right?" He ignored the tears that blurred his vision, the grief already nipping at his heart. "I need you to listen to my breaths, bud." He took a big breath. "Hear that? I need you to breathe with me again, Mac."

Minutes passed. No one could say how many.

"Come on, man, you can do it. Breathe with me."

Nor could anyone say how many times Jack took those breaths and begged MacGyver to follow.

He'd been praying for a miracle since he heard the explosions, since he watched his boy get blown out of a third story window and swallowed by the raging river below. And every second they were stuck in that cabin, it felt like they were getting further and further away from one. But this time they were at least able to hold their ground. This time.

Dropping his head onto the top of MacGyver's, Jack choked back a sob. "That a boy." Because though completely spent and barely conscious in his arms, MacGyver took a breath that wasn't strained, then another and another. He was finally getting air into his lungs. "That a boy."

Sighing heavily in relief, Bozer dropped his head onto MacGyver's shoulder.

For a while no one said anything. They all just listened. Listened to MacGyver breathe. He was still wheezing. Significantly so. But he was no longer fighting for every single breath.

"Mac?" Jack eventually tested softly, "you with me, bud?"

After a few long moments, MacGyver flexed the fingers he was gripping Jack's arm with.

Jack didn't even know he was holding his own breath until that moment. "All right. Good. Good." He wished he could see his eyes. He could tell so much just by looking in his eyes. "We're on an op, chief, and you're hurt pretty bad," he explained, assuming MacGyver didn't remember, like every other time he'd woken up. "Matty has an exfil close by, though. We're just waiting here for snowmageddon to pass, then we'll be on our way to the nearest hospital. In the meantime, I just need you to keep breathing for me, bud, all right?"

Head on Jack's shoulder, completely limp against him, MacGyver didn't move in the slightest. He just listened. He just breathed.

"I'm gonna get you home, Mac," Jack vowed in his ear, a promise he'd been making since he met the kid. A promise he didn't plan to start breaking now. "I'm gonna get you home."

As MacGyver fell back into a fitful sleep in his arms, Jack slumped against the bed frame. Now he was the one fighting to control his breathing as he squeezed his eyes shut against the emotions consuming him. "Matty–" he pleaded.

"They'll be there the second they can be, Jack." She sounded like she was fighting the same emotions, the same tears.

"That's not soon enough."

"I know."

~*~M~*~

"Exfil is stationed as close as they can get. Once the storm clears up enough, they can be over your location within fifteen minutes."

As relieved as Jack was to have comms back after nearly two hours of silence, this was not the news he wanted to hear. "Matty," he growled, "my kid damn near drowned in my arms this morning, and he could be bleedin' in his brain for all we know!"

"I know, Jack. But as much as I'd like to right now, I can't control the weather."

"How much longer is this storm supposed to last?" Bozer snapped, the last of his patience used up.

"Looks like it should pass enough for launch in less than an hour," Riley supplied, sounding as stressed as they all felt.

Tired of feeling powerless, Jack barely refrained from kicking a stool across the room. He was basically standing around watching his best friend die, and he couldn't…he couldn't….

Spidey Senses suddenly tingling, the hair on the back of his neck stood up.

Bozer noticed the shift in his demeanor. "What?"

Jack's face hardened. "Company."

tbc