This is my first ever fanfic so be gentle please! I have no idea what I'm doing. The show's writers are stupid and can't seem to decide if Jack is a competent badass or a goofy idiot, which is extremely irritating! They seem to enjoy making him look like a bumbling idiot and they are completely tarnishing his character. Giving him the false stereotype of soldiers not being very smart. When in reality he would have to have above average intelligence to make it into Delta Force, the CIA, as well as being a highly skilled sniper, which requires complex mathematical equations done in his head very quickly. I wanted to write these fic's to portray Jack Dalton as he should be portrayed.

'Shit,' Jack thought as he tested his restraints and tried to figure out just how their mission had gone to hell. He currently had the worst headache of his life. It had a life all its own, it pounded and throbbed with each heartbeat.

His partner sat almost catty-corner to him, at his left, his wrists and ankles bound with thick white zip ties, to match his own. The kid had a bruise forming near his temple and could see a trickle of dried blood on the back of his neck. Mac was taking an involuntary nap which had been caused by a large burly man sucker punching the unsuspecting kid. Jack seethed just thinking about it. How had this mission gone fubar so quickly? The Phoenix agents had technically completed the mission as soon as they had acquired the hard drive. It was one of their easier missions and it had gone off without a hitch. Maybe that's why he had let his guard down.

This was not good. They were in real trouble this time. Sure, occasionally one of them got caught to be interrogated or tortured - sometimes even on purpose - but they had never been caught and taken prisoner with no one backing them up. The last time they had checked in with the rest of their team was when they were in Jordan at least twenty four hours before the private airport in Turkey, where they had been ambushed. Jack was unsure how long he had been unconscious. Were they even still in Turkey?.

Jack was brought out of his thoughts when he heard dress shoes approaching and then a creak of a thick metal door and judging by his swagger and the way he commanded respect from his henchmen, he had to be the head honcho. The first words out of his mouth had Jack's stomach dropping, "You must be Jack. Tell me, did you enjoy your time in the sandbox? Being a former Delta, you must consider yourself a real tough guy," he said smirking, "Well, we shall see about that."

The man stepped toward Mac and Jack felt his heart rate speed up. Keeping a calm front he prayed his best friend would stay unconscious for a while longer. In his experience the bad guys tended to leave the unconscious alone since they couldn't get much intel from an unresponsive prisoner.

Grabbing a handful of the kid's blond hair, the man yanked his head back, exposing his neck. Jack's heart clenched, silently begging for Mac to be left alone. He had to get the attention back on himself. He couldn't bear to see any harm come to the kid.

"This must be MacGyver. By his reputation, I thought he would be older but it turns out he's nothing but a boy!" the guy laughed.

"Well, you know who we are," Jack grunted, "Mind telling me who the hell you are? If not, I can always just call you Douchebag."

The guy let go of Mac's hair. He stepped over to Jack and delivered a brutal backhand that split the former Delta's lip. Jack was just happy the psycho wasn't focused on his partner anymore. He feigned more pain than he felt as he watched their captor's face carefully. His suspicions were confirmed when he saw a gleam of pleasure light up in his eyes. Awesome, their captor enjoyed causing pain to others.

Jack had dealt with guys like that before and he came up with a simple plan just then. He would keep all attention on himself and take every bit of the abuse coming their way to keep Mac and his big beautiful brain safe so he could get them out of the mess.

"You may call me Mr. Sinclair," the man offered Jack a creepy smile.

Jack scrunched up his face in a dubious expression. "Hmm, no, that's not it. You don't look like a Sinclair. You look like a Douchebag."

Jack watched anger flare in Sinclair's eyes. Clearly this guy wasn't used to being disrespected this way.

Sinclair punched the Delta in the face, hard, followed by a backhand. Jack hid a smirk, clearly he wouldn't have a hard time pissing this guy off. It was his specialty, after all.

Sinclair tugged at the bottom of his suit jacket and cleared his throat. "I assume you're wondering why you and your associate are here, am I correct in assuming such?"

"The thought had crossed my mind." Jack spared a quick glance to the kid he loved like a brother while Sinclair's back was to him. Mac's head was still slumped down . The kid was still out cold and gave no sign of waking. Looking back to face Sinclair, Jack made the final decision to irritate this guy as much as he could. "If this is your way of asking me out on a date, I should let you know, I don't swing that way, dude." Jack stated, matter of factly.

Sinclair sneered at the comment and pushed himself into Jack's personal space, his face coming within inches of the agent's. "You're here, Mr. Dalton, because you took something that doesn't belong to you and you're going to tell me where it is," he said menacingly.

Jack seized an opportunity and thrust his forehead into the bridge of Sinclair's nose as hard as he could. The agent was rewarded with a crunch, Jack smiled. Blood poured from the man's nose. His hired muscle converged on the former Delta operator and started trading punches to his face and body. After several minutes Sinclair managed to compose himself and slow down the bleeding. He called off his guys, and motioned for them to step back.

Jack's eye burned as blood ran into it from a gash at his left brow. He smirked at Sinclair, "Man, sorry about that. I should have told you, I have a thing about people invading my personal space." Sinclair pulled something out of his pocket and slipped it on his right hand. 'Aww, that's cheating,' Jack thought when he saw the shiny brass knuckles coming toward his middle.

Pain blossomed in his stomach as all the air was forced out of his lungs. Suddenly there was a knife at his side, just above his hip bone, pushing painfully through his shirt and breaching the surface of his skin. Jack groaned in pain. His hands gripped the armrest so tight it turned his knuckles white.

"You will suffer for that, Mr. Dalton!" Sinclair said with a maniacal look in his eyes. He slowly pushed the knife in until it couldn't go any farther, Jack gasped out a pained growl. His breaths caught in shaky grunts. Sinclair yanked the blade out unexpectedly. He watched Jack's face closely and seemed to enjoy the visible pain he was in. Jack watched as his blood dripped from the blade in Sinclairs hand to the hard cement floor, leaving bright crimson dots on the dull gray floor.

Looking up, Jack saw the brass knuckles coming toward him again, this time to his face. The impact shot a spurt of Jack's blood onto the dingy wall next to him.

Effectively knocked out, his chin came to rest on his chest as his blood slowly dripped from over his lips and down his chin onto his shirt.