Thank you to all who stuck with me and followed, favorited, and reviewed. Thank you to my wonderful beta Lifeart for helping me out so much! Any remaining mistakes are mine. Chapter 8 here we go!

He was still shaking with anger when Sinclair spoke.

"Don't tell me you are ready to end all your partners suffering already, we just got started," Sinclair said disappointedly. Mac spared a glance at his friend briefly then, dropping his gaze to the hard cement floor, he gently shook his head from side to side. "I didn't think so," Sinclair responded smugly.

His ears were ringing and the muscles around the knife wound on his side were twitching involuntarily. 'This is just as fun as I remembered it being', Jack thought, blinking to clear his somewhat blurry vision. He cast a glance sideways to his partner, Mac's head was down with his eyes squeezed shut. Guilt hit Jack, like a punch in the gut. He knew this was tearing the kid up, but he couldn't hold back that last scream that had escaped his defenses, he had to do better.

"Let's get back to it, shall we." Sinclair stated. He looked all too pleased at the idea.

With his head down, Mac tried desperately to tune out the pained moans and sizzling zaps his best friend was enduring just inches away from him. It wasn't possible. With his eyes closed his hearing seemed to be amplified. He heard Jack's panting breaths coming faster and becoming more and more labored. Worry for his partner ratcheted up another level. He looked at Jack and searched for clues to his overall health. Beads of water dripped from his friend's short hair, his face was flushed, his skin too pale, and now he had several red blistered burn marks forming across his torso.

After a hit to a particularly sensitive area on his ribs Jack couldn't hold in his shout of pain, his voice cracked halfway through and it turned barely audible.

Mac glared daggers at the arms dealer. "Would you like a taste?" Sinclair said. He suddenly pointed the picana in Mac's direction.

'NO! Not the kid, please!' Jack begged in his head. Not waiting for a reply their captor touched the end of the picana to Mac's side. The kid's scream physically hurt Jack to hear. He hit the younger agent again this time in the neck. Mac's teeth came together with an audible click then his head dropped to his chest.

Jack's heart flip flopped. Watching someone you care about being tortured was definitely worse. He had wished Mac would have never had to experience the picana.

"How 'bout you picana someone your own size." Jack said, forcing a smile and a chuckle he didn't feel.

"You are a very difficult, how do they say it, pain in the ass Mr. Dalton." Sinclair spat. "I'm shocked you would even suggest such a thing." Jack retorted, genuinely laughing this time.

Sinclair seemed frustrated, tired even. Jack smirked at the small victory, he held his captors' stare in challenge. AzzSinclair may hold all the cards, but he couldn't control Jack's strong and stubborn will. He was never going to break and give up, that would go against every fiber of his being. Their captor's slip of confidence allowed a sliver of hope to take hold within the older agent, tired, pissed off bad guys made mistakes and he was going to push this guy's buttons until he made one.

As he flexed his grip on the handle of the torture device, Sinclair eyed the inflamed knife wound above Jacks waistband and grinned menacingly before jabbing the end into the wound and held it there. The agent's scream erupted immediately, his voice clear with agony.

There was no holding back this time and he was grateful the kid was passed out. White hot fire engulfed his abdomen and spread up his chest. He looked down at his side and was surprised to find it wasn't actually on fire. He could feel himself about to pass out and he welcomed the release from agony that oblivion promised.

Sinclair watched as the agent's head sank down and lolled to a stop, with satisfaction. It had been almost three long days for the arms dealer and these two were proving to be more difficult than he had expected. He felt his control slipping, which in turn was fueling the fury building deep inside. The man in front of him had been pushing his buttons since their first meeting, and he looked forward to finishing off the older agent. He only needed one of them alive anyway, but right now he was going to rest, these two weren't going anywhere.

Mac came to first, how long had he been out? It felt like several hours. He was certain his mouth was more dry than the Sahara, what he wouldn't give for a glass of water. He heard his partner's shallow raspy breaths and looked over at him. Jack wasn't looking too good. His breathing sounded awful and his skin was too pale, judging by the glistening dark stain on his friends slightly faded black jeans, his pallor was due to blood loss.

Mac slid his chair as close as he could get to Jack, then stretched his fingers out to touch the former Delta's arm. The fever was worse, he discovered with a sigh. He had to find a way to get them out of there.

"Mmc" Jack mumbled softly. Mac winced in sympathy, The older man was having a nightmare about him and Jack had his worst ones when he had fevers.

"Jack", Mac tried to wake his friend from the torment of his unconsciousness. He squeezed Jack's arm the best he could manage and repeated his plea. "Jack, come on man, I need you with me."

"Mmm", the older man groaned. "Jack, hey big guy, ya with me?"

"Mmac" Jack slurred.

"Jack, wake up, buddy. Can you hear me?"

"Mmm" Jack started to come around and pried his eyes open.

"You look like shit, man." Mac stated unapologetically.

Jack squinted an eye open to look at his friend and groaned, "I feel like it too, kid."

"This isn't all just a bad dream, is it?" Jack asked hopefully.

"No, sorry buddy. It's all real."

"I was afraid of that."