Title: A Hole in the World
Fandom: MacGyver (2016)
Author: gaelicspirit
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Angus MacGyver, Jack Dalton, Wilt Bozer, OCs - GEN
Summary: Set in mid-Season 5. A botched extraction leads Mac and Jack on a race for their lives, ending in a journey for survival. But as conversations venture into unexplored territory, Mac is forced to consider that not all is as it seems.
Disclaimer/Warning: Nothing you recognize is mine. Including the odd movie line. I like to work in quotes now and again. Also, medical inaccuracies abound. So, don't try any of this at home, kids.
Author's Note: It's been a while since I completed a story, let alone posted one. Like…the multiple years kind of a while. I had some medical issues in 2022 and it's taken me a bit to get my mojo back. Not sure if I have even now, if I'm being honest. I felt as though I lost my 'voice', and it's taking longer than I'd like to find it again.
So, if you read? I sincerely hope you enjoy.
"Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime and falling in at night." ~ Edna St. Vincent Millay
Part One: San Blas Islands, Panama
Mac knew he'd been cutting it close when he rigged the explosives and ran like hell, but how close was made clear when the blast slammed into him like a speeding car.
He was launched into the air, the breath crushed from his body and a savage punch rammed into his side. He didn't remember the slide through the sand when he landed, bits of broken shell and coral tearing across his skin, but when he opened his eyes however long later, he could only lay there struggling for just one breath.
The only thing he could hear was the staccato beat of his heart and a harsh wheeze as air sawed in and out of his lungs. His mouth was full of blood and his skin stung from countless abrasions as he was thrown across the sand. The slightest movement hurt, and he couldn't focus his eyes.
He needed to get the hell out of here or here was going to die when the mercenaries found him. If he could just make himself move….
"Mac!"
Oh, thank God! The sound of Jack's voice was an immediate relief. He just needed some help to get on his feet and they could escape to exfil and safety.
"Where'd you go…?" Mac slurred, sand gathering at the corner of his mouth where the side of his face pressed against the ground. He struggled to get his hands beneath him, trying in vain to push himself upright, but his head spun, and his vision began to gray out.
"Sorry, sorry! I'm here, I'm here," Jack's voice was close, and Mac could hear a shuffle in the sand near him. "I gotcha. I got caught up with a bad guy. We're good. We're all good, now. Let's have a look at you."
Gentle hands carefully helped him roll onto his back and searched his body for injuries. Mac coughed roughly as his eyes focused on Jack's face hovering above him, a study in both worry and relief.
"Easy, kiddo," Jack's voice soothed, and then suddenly he was in Mac's line of sight, his own face scuffed and smoke-streaked, sand caught in the smile creases at the corners of his eyes. "Cut that one a bit close, huh?"
"A bit," Mac agreed, still trying to encourage his lungs to remember what they'd been designed to do.
"You good to sit up?" Jack slid his hand to the back of Mac's right shoulder. "'Cause some not-so-happy ex-military types are gonna be headed our way."
Mac nodded once and reached out to grip Jack's bicep. He hadn't been that close to the blast; he wasn't sure why he was so unsteady. Jack dug his heels into the sand and hauled Mac to his feet. They stood for a moment, their arms creating a steadying brace, then as one they looked up and toward the compound.
There was practically nothing left.
The structures had crumbled and collapsed, the walls surrounding the mercenaries' home base tilted against each other like dominoes. Black smoke and bright orange flames—tinged in blue from the chemical reaction—climbed each other toward the sky.
"Think you used enough dynamite, there, Butch?" Jack muttered in awe.
Mac frowned slightly. "It wasn't dynamite," he corrected. "I used the chemicals they—"
Jack waved at him. "Naw, that's from—y'know what? Never mind. Let's get the hell outta here."
"Ready when you are," Mac nodded, eyes scanning the rubble for signs of anyone heading their way.
As they turned and headed down the beach toward the trees and in the direction of exfil, Mac heard shouts in Spanish, mixed with enough of the local dialect he couldn't easily translate—but it didn't matter. Hearing it at all meant they were too close.
"Go faster," he called out to Jack, and pressed his hand against the older man's back, hurrying him forward as the pseudo path they followed began to wind uphill.
"We need to find a place to tuck up until night," Jack panted as they ran. "Whose bright idea was it to have exfil on the other freaking side of the island?"
"Not mine," Mac retorted.
The voices called out again but were somewhat faded. Mac continued to run, pressing a hand against the stitch in his side, eyes tracking the underground foliage, trees, a peek of the ocean through the branches to their right. Without warning, the unmistakable sound of a bullet whizzed past his ear and hit a tree next to his head.
"Holy shit!" Jack cried, his hands going up to his head, his body instinctively curling. "How'd they get a sight on us?"
"Sniper?" Mac gasped, ducking his head as another bullet sliced through the air. "Tracers!" he called to Jack, seeing the almost orange line of the slugs as they rode the space around them. "They're getting a bead, Jack!"
"Yeah, yeah," Jack pulled up short, turned and grabbed the front of Mac's shirt all in one motion.
Mac was too surprised to resist and fell forward as Jack let gravity pull them to the side, wrapping his arms around Mac's back and curling forward as they tumbled as one down an embankment Mac hadn't noticed before. The bullets continued to ping against the trees, but soon Mac couldn't see or really hear them anymore as he and Jack fell through the underbrush, bouncing off roots and rocks, until he once more felt the sand scuff his skin.
Mac dug his heels into the soft ground and felt Jack shoving his hand out to slow their descent and they rolled to a messy stop, camouflaged by leaves, vines, and sand.
"I can't believe you didn't say as you wish," Mac whispered as they lay still, listening for their pursuers.
Jack chuckled softly. "I thought about it," he confessed.
They lay unmoving for a full minute, both listening.
"I got nothing," Jack said.
Mac nodded once. "Same."
Carefully, they extricated themselves from the underbrush, their faces scratched and clothing filthy. Looking around, Mac's eyes caught on what looked like a cave opening a bit down the beach. He glanced askance at Jack.
"Think it'll be too obvious?"
Jack lifted a shoulder. "Do we have a choice?"
Mac scanned the beach and saw what looked to be run off from an inland river spilling down to the ocean. He tipped his head toward it and Jack nodded, moving carefully from where they'd landed to the water. They crouched low, hoping to create a smaller footprint—though, Mac knew if the mercenaries had any kind of heat vision equipment left, no amount of skulking or hiding was going to do them any good—and followed the river to the beach, moving through the waves until they were swimming along the edge of the shore toward the opening of the cave.
His side continued to burn with the exertion of swimming against the pull of the current. He just needed to get a second to sit and catch his breath and it would settle itself, but they had to get to the cave first. When they were directly in front of the cave, Jack stopped swimming and Mac positioned himself behind his partner to make less of a visible target.
"Think we can make it?" Jack panted, spitting salt water as he moved his arms to stay in place.
Mac huffed. "Not sure we have a choice at this point…unless you wanna swim around the island."
Jack glanced at him, looking for a moment as though he was considering that possibility. "You see any of the bad guys?"
Mac scanned the ridge, the coastline—he could still see the smoke from the destroyed base, but it was thinning and far from the water's edge.
"Nope."
Jack nodded once and began to let the tide carry him forward, with Mac close behind. They waded onto the beach once more, running in a quick crouch as they were exposed for longer than Mac was comfortable with, and reached the mouth of the cave. Moving cautiously forward, they worked their way around rocks and a thin stream of water that cut through the center of the cave floor. About five feet in, the light faded, and Mac found himself mentally running through all the possible ways he could construct a light source—none of which were possible with the supplies they had on hand.
Jack stumbled, caught himself on the cave wall, then turned so that the little light available hit the object that had tripped him up: an animal skull. What kind of animal Mac wasn't sure—a monkey, perhaps?
"Well, that's not creepy at all," Jack muttered, kicking the skull to the side.
"Can you tell how far back it goes?" Mac asked.
"Not yet," Jack shook his head.
They kept moving, one hand on the cave wall, each of Jack's steps forward hesitant and exploring the darker the interior got.
"Swear to God, I feel like I'm going to step off into an abyss," Jack growled.
Mac curled his fingers into the back of Jack's shirt. "I got you," he said, his lips curling up in a smile.
"Oh, great, yeah, that makes me feel a ton better," Jack scoffed.
"What if I told you this island is on a tectonic plate and there's no way there could be an abyss in this cave," Mac offered.
"Ha, right," Jack retorted. "That's what everyone told Lindenbrock, and then next thing you know he's fighting giant Gila monsters."
"Linden—" Mac pulled up short in surprise, his grip on Jack's shirt stopping the other man as well. "Are you talking about…you've read Journey to the Center of the Earth?"
Mac felt Jack turn toward him, though he could no longer see the other man's face. "What? I read!"
"Yeah, but…Jules Vern?" Mac chuckled.
"Listen here, Junior," Jack replied, his tone affronted. "There's a lot you may not know about me. And Jules Vern happens to be very entertaining."
"Okay, okay," Mac replied, fighting the instinct to hold his hands up in surrender. He didn't want to lose touch with either the cave wall or Jack's shirt, afraid he wouldn't be able to find either of them again.
They started moving further into the darkness; Mac could feel the jerk and stutter of Jack feeling his way forward, the cool wall of the cave their only guide.
"This thing goes any deeper, we'll be on the other side of the island," Jack muttered.
"Closer to exfil," Mac pointed out.
"Sure, we'll just have Mattie tell 'em to tunnel—"
Jack bit off the end of his words when a shout at the entrance echoed off the cave walls. Both men froze; Mac held his breath. More voices joined the first and Mac felt Jack press a hand against his chest, pushing him back against the wall of the cave. They both looked toward the light at the end of the cave, seeing the silhouette of four men…and their guns.
"They can't see us," Jack's voice was barely a breath of sound.
Mac nodded slowly, keeping his eyes pinned to the figures of the men. He tried to see if the men were looking for footprints in the sand—hoping he and Jack had been careful enough to step on the rocks, not leave traces of their journey into the cave. The men were far enough away the were basically just outlines, their hand gestures indicating frustration…which was a good sign as far as Mac was concerned.
"You tell what they're saying?" Jack breathed again.
Mac shook his head, ensuring Jack felt the motion as close as they stood. The men at the entrance seemed to argue for a bit longer, then turned and continued down the beach. Mac felt Jack sag against the cave wall, his own exhale of relief twinging his side enough that he wondered if the pain he was feeling there was more than a stitch from their accelerated escape.
"Now what?" Jack whispered.
"Keep going," Mac stood up away from the wall, keeping one hand against the stone just in case. He floundered in the dark for a moment until he found Jack's damp shirt once more.
Jack took a slow breath, then straightened. "For how long?"
"Long enough a fire can't be seen from the entrance."
Jack huffed as he started walking. "You got something to burn?"
"We'll figure something out," Mac replied. They may not be chilled now, still running high on their frantic escape, but he knew when night came this cave was going to get cold, and shared body heat wasn't going to cut it.
Jack stumbled; Mac's hold on his shirt pulled him forward and he instinctively released the wall to steady the other man.
"You good?"
"Yeah," Jack muttered, frustration clear in his tone. "Can't see shit in here."
Mac floundered for the wall again, but his hand simply swiped at air. Keeping one hand on Jack, he shifted to the side, reaching for where he knew the wall should be. He had to move sideways twice more before his hand hit the cold stone.
"There's a curve up here," he informed Jack. "We can follow it for a bit more and we should be okay."
He pressed his fingers against Jack's side, encouraging the man to step sideways until he was also against the wall. They moved in silence as the cave wall curved until Mac could hear running water in the distance.
"Waterfall?" Jack guessed.
"Underground aqueduct, more likely," Mac replied.
He heard Jack scoff. "Was gonna be my next guess."
"I think we're safe here," Mac declared, releasing Jack's shirt and slumping against the wall. The burning in his side had been steadily increasing since the mercenaries left the cave entrance and pointedly ignoring the pain was wearing him out.
Jack groaned slightly as Mac heard him slide down to sit, leaning back against the wall. "Take a load off, Mac," he entreated. "Pull up a rock."
Mac huffed and slid down the wall next to his partner. He cautiously pressed a hand against his side, trying to feel for a wound, but felt nothing except his salt-water-soaked shirt. No blood. Still, the area below his ribs was hot and sore to the touch. He was going to need to keep an eye on it.
Assuming he could actually see it at some point.
"What's that you were saying about a fire?" Jack asked, and Mac heard the palms of his hands rub together.
"Yeah…," Mac sighed. "I was kinda hoping there would be debris that got washed up here."
"Debris like…?"
"I don't know…dried seaweed, palm fronds, pieces of a wrecked pirate ship," Mac trailed off.
There was silence for a beat.
"You're messing with me, aren't you?"
"Yes," Mac chuckled. "I'm messing with you."
"Still, a fire woulda been nice," Jack sighed. "We might be in Panama, but dark is dark no matter how hot it is."
Mac tented his legs and rested his forearms on his knees, keeping one side pressed close to Jack to not lose track of him in the dark. "You remember that time we got caught downrange with a dead battery?"
Jack huffed a quick laugh. "Now, that was dark."
"And somehow…worse than this because it was out in the open."
"Hell yeah, and those guys were watching for us."
"We got out of that one," Mac pointed out. "We'll get out of this."
"I do still have my gun," Jack commented.
Mac felt his brows pull low. "We aren't shooting our way out of this."
"No, genius, the bullets," he swiped at the back of Mac's head, but missed. "Figure you can use the gunpowder—you've done it before."
Mac blinked. He must be off his game more than he thought. "Okay, but we need something for the gunpowder to burn…."
Jack moved away from him and for a moment Mac felt his throat close in fear. There was a bit of rustling in the dark, and Mac found himself straining to see through the black.
"Jack?"
"Hang tight," Jack replied, his voice little more than a tense whisper. "I think I…yes!"
A few seconds later, Mac felt the other man scrunch down next to him once more.
"How about this?" Jack thrust something in his direction, his fists bumping Mac's chest.
Mac reached up and felt what was in Jack's hands. Driftwood.
"How the hell—"
"I kicked it a few times on the way back here and I literally just realized what it was."
"A few times?" Mac tilted his head. "So…there's more?"
"Somewhere…," Jack started to move off.
"Wait!" Mac grabbed his wrist. "Hold up a sec."
He twisted around to his knees, grimacing in the dark when his side pulled painfully tight. Feeling around on the ground, his fingers closed around a larger rock, and he brushed the sand from the surface, then dug into his pocket for his SAK.
"Gimme one of your bullets," he held out a hand to Jack. He heard the clip eject and in moments felt the weight of a 9mm bullet in his hand. Going by feel and memory, he pulled a blade from his SAK and worked the bullet casing free, then tapped the gunpowder onto the surface of the rock. "Can you find a—"
He broke off when Jack handed him a small, dry rock.
"Thanks," he replied, surprised.
"Kid, I might not have your brains, but I've been watching you work for years. Pretty sure I picked up a thing or two," Jack's retort was smug.
Using the smaller rock as a flint stone, Mac ran his blade along the surface, creating sparks and abruptly igniting the gun powder. Moving quickly, they both held pieces of the dried driftwood Jack found to the quickly fading flame and Mac mentally crossed his fingers that one caught before the fire went out.
"Ha!" Jack exclaimed in triumph when his piece of wood caught fire. Using it as a kindling base, they grabbed the remaining few pieces and soon had a meager fire going.
"Stay here and keep it going," Jack ordered, pushing to his feet. "I'll go find some more."
"Be careful!" Mac entreated as the other man moved off.
He shifted his weight away from his side, the burn from before turning into a prominent pain and making itself known. His clothes were starting to dry from their impromptu swim, but the cool damp of the cave was making him shiver. He began to strip the last two pieces of driftwood into smaller strips and carefully feed them to the fire to keep the flame going.
Just when he started to worry that Jack had gotten himself lost, or had fallen down a hole, or had a mysterious island creature eat him, the other man came back with an arm full of various sized pieces of driftwood. Mac grinned.
"Nice," he complimented.
"There's plenty more, too," Jack said, dropping the wood into a pile next to their meager flame. "I'm betting it gets dumped in here during storms when this place becomes an island water park."
"As long as it's dry," Mac said, adding more wood until he could feel the heat from the flames and their shadows danced on the cave walls around them like ancient warriors preparing for battle.
"Aw, kid," Jack's voice at his side surprised him. "You shoulda said something!"
Mac frowned, looking over at his friend. One-half of Jack's face was scratched red from the sand, and the bruise around his eye that Mac had noticed earlier before their swim was a bit more prominent, but he appeared healthy enough. His eyes were on Mac, however.
"About what?"
"Where are you hurt?"
Mac frowned. "I'm okay."
"You're so pale you're almost grey. And don't think I can't see the way you're holding your arm so still."
"Jack, I'm fine," Mac sighed, but the action caught against his ribs and caused him to wince.
Jack lifted a brow. "And I'm a lion tamer."
"That's what you're going with? Lion tamer?"
"Talk to me, kid."
Mac sighed. "It's my side," he pressed his arm close. "I think it's just bruised, no blood, I swear."
"Lemme see," Jack moved close to him, waving him back to lean against the wall.
Mac was too tired to fight the tidal wave that was Jack Dalton in Papa Bear mode. He leaned against the cold rock of the cave wall and let his arm fall away from his side. Jack lifted the hem of his now-dry and salt-water-crusted shirt and Mac heard him suck in air through his teeth.
"What?"
"How long has this been hurting?"
"Since we blew up the compound," Mac confessed.
He tried to tilt his head to get a look at his side, but Jack dropped his shirt and sat back so that the fire lit the wounded half of his face.
"Okay, well…I got good news and bad news," he said, his mouth set in a grim line.
"From one look?" Mac arched a brow skeptically.
"Good news is you're not actively bleeding," Jack continued.
"I could've told you that," Mac muttered.
Jack rubbed the top of his head, standing up his mohawk a bit in the process. "Bad news is, pretty sure you've got some internal bleeding going on there."
For one brief second, Mac felt himself go cold. But then he scoffed, "You get a medical degree at some point when I wasn't looking?"
Jack shook his head, "No, sir," he sighed. "But I been to war, same as you. And I've seen all kinds of wounds…same as you."
Mac blinked at that, then shifted so he could lift his shirt and look down at his side. The bruise was impressive, he had to admit. It wrapped around his side, just below his ribs, and stretched to his belly button, and was a shade of dark purple that may as well be called black.
"Damn," he breathed, dropping his shirt back over his belly. "No wonder it hurt when we were swimming."
"Uh, yeah," Jack scoffed, wrapping his arms around his knees. "No wonder."
"Well," Mac sighed, resting his head against the wall. "Nothing we can do until we get to exfil."
Jack didn't reply; he just tossed more driftwood onto the fire. They sat in silence for several minutes, then Jack spoke up.
"How'd we get out of that deal?"
"What deal?" Mac asked, drowsily as he stared at the fire.
"The one downrange—with the dead battery?"
Mac sighed. It wasn't the greatest of memories. "I managed to get the radio working and called in an evac."
"You got the radio working. With a dead battery."
"I made a solar-powered charger," Mac said.
Jack chuckled. "Of course you did."
"You were too busy bleeding out from a gunshot wound…probably why you don't remember," Mac reminded him.
Jack tapped his forehead, then pointed at Mac. "That's right."
Mac shifted slightly, trying in vain to get into a more comfortable position. He could feel himself beginning to shiver as the cold rock wall leached out any heat the fire provided.
"Here," Jack shifted over. "How about you lie down for a few. Get recharged."
"You take the first watch?" Mac asked, his entire body suddenly aching to rest. "Wake me in an hour?"
"I'll give you two," Jack winked at him. "If you promise to actually sleep."
Mac eased himself down to his non-aching side and curled an arm under his head. "Promise."
He was out in seconds, his body practically weeping with gratitude for being allowed to unclench. He didn't feel Jack lift his head off the sand and rest it in his lap. He didn't feel the increased warmth of the fire as Jack put more driftwood in the flames. The world was simply dark, and silent.
And then the silence grew heavy. And the darkness was suffocating.
Mac opened his eyes with a gasp. Confusion wrapped around him for a full minute until he heard the familiar rumble of Jack's snoring in the dark. Their driftwood fire had burned down to coals, and it was once more pitch-black around them.
"Jack," Mac grumbled, pushing up to brace himself on his elbow.
His entire torso violently protested. He gasped, and pressed his free hand to his side and was surprised to feel heat trapped under his skin. He didn't realize his head rested on Jack's leg until he rolled to his back. Reaching up with a clumsy swipe he tapped Jack's folded arms.
"Jack!"
The older man startled, sitting up abruptly and tossing Mac's head from his lap. Mac groaned at the impact and pushed upright on shaking arms. He was momentarily disoriented in the dark, unsure where the cave wall was in relation to where he was sitting.
"Mac?" Jack's voice was gravelly; his sleep-enhanced confusion apparent.
"'m here," Mac muttered, finally finding the cave wall and shifting to a seated position, resting his back against the cool rock.
He could sense Jack's stuttered movements in the dark—more out of knowing the man than actual proximity or sight.
"Dammit, fell asleep," Jack berated himself. "Sorry, man."
"'s okay," Mac breathed, pressing a hand against his side. He instinctively wanted to pull his legs up against the pain, but it was too hard to drag in a full breath that way. Instead, he straightened his legs and pressed his back against the rock behind him. "You were tired, too."
"We need to get to exfil," Jack's voice changed in direction and Mac realized he'd climbed to his feet.
"Can you see the opening?" he asked.
He could hear some shuffling of Jack's feet against the dirt, imagined the man moving away from their make-shift camp to try to see out through the mouth of the cave.
"All I see is dark," Jack confessed. "We've been in here a bit now. I'd guess maybe…five, six hours?"
Mac calculated quickly. "That would put it at roughly midnight," he said.
"Giving us six more hours to get to exfil before we're screwed," Jack concluded. Mac heard him take a slow, steadying breath. "Think you can make it?"
Mac frowned. "Of course."
Jack was silent for a moment.
"What?" Mac asked, feeling as though he were bracing himself for bad news.
"Nothing, man," Jack replied, and Mac heard him moving closer. "Just know you don't always clock how bad you're hurting until it takes you under."
Mac scoffed. "Pot meet kettle."
"Yeah, yeah," Jack returned. "But…you're a lot more stubborn about your own health than I am. You know I'm right."
"You're the one who has to deal with most of the damage because you're always the one falling on the grenade," Mac returned. "Figuratively speaking."
Jack's hand on his arm startled Mac. He didn't realize the other man had gotten that close. He gripped Jack's bicep, allowing his partner to pull him to his feet, and practically bit a hole in his bottom lip to keep from crying out.
"Whatever you say," Jack placated. "Just doing my job."
Mac puffed out a few breaths as he got his balance, allowing Jack to move his arm until his hand touched the cave wall. Right hand on the wall going in, left hand going out. It was literally the only way they could make sure they didn't get lost in here forever.
"Oh, yeah? Your job is falling on grenades?" Mac needled.
"Nah," Jack's hand slid up to his shoulder and Mac felt a gentle squeeze of reassurance. "I save you, you save the world, right?"
Mac huffed weakly. "Right."
"Let's get a move on," Jack stepped directly in front of Mac, and waited until Mac curled his fingers into the loose part of his shirt. "This cave is creeping me out. Keep thinking I feel bats in my hair."
"Not in this climate," Mac reassured him.
"That's something at least," Jack sighed, moving forward.
For the first several feet, Mac was good staying behind Jack, using one hand to follow the path of the cave wall, the other to make sure they weren't separated. Then Jack stumbled, catching himself on the wall, and Mac was pulled forward abruptly by his hold on Jack's shirt. His side flared hot, the flush consuming him for a moment.
"Holy shit," he breathed, releasing Jack's shirt and wrapping his arm around his side.
"Mac?"
"Gimme a minute," Mac pleaded. Without warning, he felt Jack's hands on his face and neck. "Jack," he complained irritably.
"You feel clammy," Jack replied. "Need to keep you from going into shock."
"I'm not going into shock," Mac protested. "It's cold and damp in here. You're probably clammy, too."
"I did not like the look of that bruise," Jack continued.
Mac sighed and pushed at the other man's shoulder. "Well, then the sooner we get to exfil, the sooner you can be reassured I'm okay."
Jack turned, but Mac could still hear him grumbling protests under his breath.
"It's probably just a bad bruise," Mac tried to reassure him as they continued forward. "You've had worse taking a bullet to the vest."
"Don't remind me," Jack groused.
But Mac thought that was exactly what he needed to do—get his friend's mind on something other than worrying about him.
"What about that time in Kandahar, when that other sniper caught you before we got into position?" Mac recalled. "Blew you right off your feet," he shook his head. "Scared me to death."
"You?" Jack bleated with a short laugh. "I heard angels."
"But your vest—"
"And our transport," Jack broke in.
"And our transport," Mac conceded, "saved you."
"Thought I said don't remind me," Jack chided.
Mac shrugged, an automatic gesture in the dark. "Can't help it," he confessed. "You worry so much about me, but you're the one always running into the fire—or blocking the bullets—to save me."
"You're important, Mac," Jack said, his voice flat, offering no room for argument.
But Mac wanted to argue anyway. "And you're not?"
"It's different," Jack returned.
"No! No different," Mac replied, but was shushed as Jack's arm came back and pressed him against the cave wall. Without him realizing it, they'd reached the edge of the cave shadow and with their next steps would be visible to anyone who might be watching.
"Wish I had my NVGs," Jack muttered.
Mac nodded silently. Night vision goggles would have made this whole expedition a lot easier. They were going to have to risk it, he knew, but he waited until Jack was ready.
"I go first," Jack ordered.
"Ja—"
"Eh," Jack shifted, turning to look at the younger man over his shoulder. "I go first," he repeated. "You follow when I say. Capiche?"
Mac exhaled slowly and nodded. He could see around them now; the ambient light from the shoreline—either the moon, or lights from what was left of the compound—turned the opening of the cave to a shadowed gray, but after so long in pitch-black, it was enough to see the outline of Jack's figure as he moved with stealthy grace toward the cave mouth.
Mac watched as Jack paused at the opening, his weapon pulled and poised, looking for any spying eyes or tell-tale signs of rustling underbrush. After several minutes, Mac saw Jack look toward him and nod. He began to make his way along the rock wall toward the opening.
He was within an arm's reach of Jack when the mercenaries dropped down from above.
They should have known better.
Jack turned and fired, his movements automatic, his aim precise…his bullets numbered. He was only able to take out three of the lurking men before he was tackled by two others. Mac froze for a moment but then instinct kicked in and he started toward Jack, halted by three others who dropped down from the edge of the cave opening and blocked his path.
A man with tattoos covering one side of his face snarled something menacing in the local Panamanian dialect.
"Right back atcha," Mac growled, just as his arms were grabbed and pinned. The tattooed man stepped forward, an ominous expression twisting the tattoos into a loathsome image just before he plowed a fist into Mac's belly.
Mac had time to hear Jack's howl of protest, see fire lick the back of his eyelids, and feel the burn in his shoulders as his legs gave out and he hung from the grip of the two men holding him, before darkness swamped him completely.
Mac startled aware with a harsh gasp. He hurt. He couldn't seem to take a full breath without fire chasing itself across his mid-section. Opening his eyes to the inside of a canvass-covered truck bed, arms lashed together behind him and his entire body shivering, was more than a little disorienting.
"Mac?"
"Jack? You okay?" Mac twisted his head around, trying to find his friend.
Jack was tied up—hands and feet—his arms lashed together and raised above his head, anchored to the arched bow that held the canvass cover onto the truck bed. It was good they weren't moving; Mac could see when the truck was in motion there would be little Jack could use to keep his body from being tossed around…which was obviously the point.
"Yeah, man, I'm good," Jack replied. "It's you I'm worried about. You dropped like a rock, kid. I thought they'd killed you."
"Still here," Mac replied, panting a bit through the pain of moving into a seated position. "My side's on fire, though."
"Told you it wasn't just a bruise," Jack grumbled.
"Yeah, yeah, you're brilliant," Mac retorted. "Any idea where we are?"
Jack shook his head. "It was too dark when they hauled us into the truck; I couldn't see shit." He tugged ineffectually at the ropes binding his hands over his head. "And they haven't driven us far—maybe two, three klicks from the beach."
"Inland," Mac clarified.
"Yup."
"Think it's back to the—"
"Silence!" Came a shout from outside of the truck, and something hit the side of the canvass.
"How long you give us until Matty comes looking?" Jack whispered.
Mac tilted his head in thought. "Matty would probably wait until we don't make exfil," he mused, "but Russ won't like that we haven't checked in…."
Jack frowned. "Who?"
Before Mac could reply, the back flap of the canvass was tossed back and two men climbed into the truck, one going to Jack, the other to Mac. He was roughly hauled to his feet, the motion pulling at his bruised side. The sensation of knives cutting through his belly had him gasping and closing his eyes as nausea threatened to overwhelm him.
"Hey!" Jack shouted. "Go easy!"
The man cutting Jack's bonds from the truck frame snapped something at him. Jack stared daggers in return.
"So's your mom," he taunted, earning a punch across the face for his troubles.
"Jack," Mac gasped. "Don't…d-don't, I'm okay."
Jack shook his head, allowing his bound arms to fall limply in front of him as they released him from the tether to the truck. "The hell you are."
"Don't make it worse," Mac pleaded as he was shoved toward the back of the truck.
It was impossible to climb down easily with his hands tied, his side on fire, and a rifle barrel digging into his spine. He tried to hold the side of the truck and step on the bumper, but the mercenary pushed at him with the rifle, and he stumbled, lost his balance, and fell, landing hard on his shoulder and hip. He couldn't stifle the cry of pain that exited his lips, and before he could recover the man hauling him from the truck kicked the back of his ribs and everything around him went black and silent.
"C'mon, Mac, don't do this to me…," Jack's voice was close, urgent, and scared. "Need you to open your eyes, now, okay? One blink for yes, that's all I need."
"How many for no?" Mac muttered, wondering vaguely where Matty went. He realized he was lying against Jack when he felt the man's entire body relax at the sound of his voice.
"You scared me good that time, kid," Jack confessed. "You started throwing up blood as soon as he kicked you."
Mac opened his eyes at that. "I did?" His mouth tasted terrible, but he didn't remember anything after falling out of the truck.
"That bastard kicked you and I thought…," he felt Jack's shudder run through him. "I thought he'd killed you that time, Mac. I thought that was it."
Mac started to move away from Jack so he could look at him, but the older man held him fast, not allowing him to shift even an inch. He could see that he was lying between Jack's legs, his back against Jack's front, his arms unbound and crossed in front of him. Jack's arms rested on top of his.
"What did you do?" Mac asked, suddenly feeling cold, and he was almost sure it wasn't from shock. "Jack?"
"I beat the hell out of that fucker, that's what."
"With your hands tied?"
"They were tied in front of me," Jack offered, and Mac could feel him shrug.
Mac moved a hand across his abdomen, feeling the heat of his skin through his shirt, and even without palpating his side, he could tell the bruise wasn't just a bruise—he was bleeding internally. The skin was firm and tender, and his breath was coming in short and stuttering gasps.
"Any idea…how long?" he asked.
"We're a few hours past our exfil," Jack told him. "Matty'll have the calvary coming in after you here soon."
Mac froze. "After us."
Jack didn't reply. Mac carefully pushed his partner's arms off him and started to shift so that he could turn around. His side blossomed into magma, tripping his breath and sending a full-body shiver through him. He instinctively tried to curl over the pain, but Jack quickly put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.
"Don't want to do that, bud," he warned.
And suddenly, Mac knew he had to. There was something Jack wasn't telling him, and he was instantly terrified. Jack told him everything…except when he was afraid it would hurt. Forcefully pushing Jack's protective hands away, Mac shifted, planting one hand on the ground and using his arm to help him pivot. He had to swing one leg over Jack's to get the angle needed to fully face the other man, but the moment he saw Jack, he gasped.
"Aw, no."
Jack's smile was sad and slightly tremulous. Mac was immediately reminded of the moment his partner had stepped on the triggered metal plate inside the fake armored car and took time to tell Mac that whatever happened, it wasn't his fault.
"Yeah, so," Jack exhaled shakily. "Turns out our friends are pretty pissed about their place getting vaporized."
Jack was sitting upright against a support beam, the only thing keeping him there was a clamp attached to a metal loop, which happened to be wrapped around Jack's neck, anchoring him to the beam. To add another level of terror, fixed to the clamp was enough plastique explosive to create a hole in the world—and it was attached to a mercury switch.
"Whatever you do," Mac breathed, "do not move."
"Yeah, Señior Bad Guy gave me that speech while you were out," Jack informed him. "Seems he's pretty intent on me losing my head."
"If this thing goes off, you won't just lose your head," Mac said distractedly, his eyes raking the trigger mechanism, the wires feeding into and out of the plastique, the tightness of the clamp, the metal around Jack's neck.
He could see that there was barely room for Jack to swallow and no room for him to turn his head. Thinking only to get a better look at the explosive and ascertain the best way to diffuse it, Mac started to move closer, shifting his other leg over Jack's and stretching forward, when his side exploded in a white-hot pain. Everything went blank almost immediately.
He was on his hands and knees, gagging on a mouthful of blood and trying not to vomit. He sensed he'd skipped time—how much he couldn't be certain, but enough to send him reeling.
Gasping, he spat the blood on the floor, sinking back to rest on his folded legs to avoid slipping in it. He knew Jack was talking to him, but he couldn't hear him past the ringing in his ears. His face was burning up, his side was on fire, and he couldn't stop shaking. There was no way he was going to diffuse that bomb and save Jack if he couldn't stop shaking.
"…just one easy breath, kid," Jack was saying. "You got this."
Mac dragged his arm across his mouth, wiping the blood from his lips.
"Well, that sucked," he rasped.
"Yeah, you're in pretty rough shape," Jack conceded. "Bastards didn't even bother tying you up."
Mac looked up at that, meeting Jack's eyes, then looked once more at the bomb. "Dammit," he breathed.
"Oh, those sneaky sonsabitches," Jack growled with a sudden realization. "They didn't tie you up because they wanted you to try to free me."
"It's a dead man's switch," Mac muttered. "Even if I diffuse it…."
"They're probably watching from somewhere right now," Jack muttered, and then shouted, "No los ganarás, bastardos!"
Mac jumped slightly at his shout. "Easy, big guy," he said softly, "or they will win."
He gingerly crawled forward. His hand shook as he instinctively reached for the bomb, and he pulled his arm back, wiping his palm on his jeans. He could see where the connections were made, but not where he could make an entrance…yet. He felt his pocket and pulled out his SAK.
"Can't believe they didn't take that offa you," Jack chuckled. "Who would you be without your little red knife, huh?"
Mac frowned, looking up to each corner of the room. "Yeah…," he muttered. "They didn't tie me up, didn't search me…."
Something wasn't right. Using the wall behind Jack, Mac eased himself to his feet, keeping his hand against the wall for balance. He was trembling, pain shivering through him like waves. He knew he wouldn't be able to stay on his feet for long, but…he had to know.
The room was empty, save the two of them. There were three other support beams aside from the one Jack was tied to, and one window across the way, high up on the wall. Mac made his way to the window, but once he reached it, he realized it was too high for him to peer through without pulling himself up on the sill, and there was no way he was going to be able to do that without passing out.
He made his way to the one door directly across from where Jack sat with a bomb around his neck and though he knew it would be locked, tried the handle anyway. It didn't budge. Sighing, he rested his forehead against the rough-hewn wood of the doorframe and gathered his strength to head back to Jack.
"Another fine mess," Jack huffed, but Mac could hear the grin hit the back of his words.
He turned around and made his way back to Jack, sinking slowly to his knees next to his friend, one arm wrapped around his middle. He wasn't going to be getting back up anytime soon—not without help. His belly was almost rigid, he was too scared to look at the bruise, and he could feel his heart thudding against his ribs with each trembling breath.
This was not good.
"'m sorry, Jack," he whispered, unconsciously tipping forward until he was resting against Jack's side, his forehead on Jack's shoulder. "Just need a minute."
"Take your time, kid," Jack said softly, and Mac felt his hand rest gently on his shoulder.
"I shoulda guessed they were just waiting for us," Mac said softly, his eyes falling closed. "Just…I just let 'em take you…."
"Nah," Jack's grip tightened. "I watch your back. It's my job, remember? We talked about this."
Mac blinked, drawing strength from Jack's hold. "I know you picked Desi to do your job, but…," he sighed. "'s not the same."
"Desi?" Jack's confusion was clear. "Desiree Nguyen?"
Mac pulled his head up, frowning at Jack. "Yeah."
"How the hell do you know Desi?"
"What do you mean, how?" Mac weaved slightly, feeling his world tilting around him. "You brought her in when…when you…."
"Mac?" Jack's hand was on his neck, his fingers at Mac's jaw.
"W-wait, but if you…you left, when…how did you get back?" The sensation of falling increased and Mac let himself be pulled closer to Jack, reaching up with clumsy fingers to anchor himself by holding onto the edge of Jack's shirt.
"Just…take it easy, Mac," Jack's voice rumbled against the side of Mac's face, the older man's chest vibrating with sound. "Pretty sure you're concussed."
"No, I'm—" Mac's breath stuttered at the base of his throat as his heart thudded painfully against his ribs.
"Easy, kid," Jack repeated. "Just breathe, okay? One easy breath. There you go."
Mac felt Jack's hand on his back, another on the back of his neck, and forced himself to breathe slowly, counting to four in his head as he pulled in a breath, holding it for a count of four, and then releasing for a count of four.
"Atta boy," Jack said. "Easy. Just like falling off a bike."
Mac chuckled weakly. "Riding a bike."
"You clearly ain't seen me ride if you think that's easier than falling offa one," Jack teased him and slowly released his hold as Mac pulled away and sat upright.
He looked at Jack, thinking. "I'm gonna pick the lock."
"On the bomb?" Jack's eyebrows went up.
"On the door," Mac replied. "Get out of this room, find a way to get some help."
"No, huh-uh, no way," Jack shook his head the miniscule amount the clamp allowed. "You don't get to do anything stupid by yourself."
Mac felt his chin tremble and he exhaled slowly. "I can't…I don't think I can get you outta this, Jack." He felt his eyes burn. "It's too…there's too many…."
"You go out there, they're gonna be waiting, Mac," Jack wrapped a strong hand around Mac's wrist, holding on tight. "The last thing I need is your death on my conscience. That'd kill me. Don't do that to me."
Mac stared at him, feeling a cold spill of realization trickle down his spine. Jack had said that to him before—when they'd first encountered Murdoc. He'd been floored by the earnestness in those words, the truth behind them.
"What is it?" Jack asked.
"Something's…not right," Mac replied, frowning. He slipped sideways to his hip, leaning forward on one arm for support. "You're…there's something not right."
"There's a whole lot not right," Jack replied, "starting with you looking like you're about to pass out on me again."
"I think I am," Mac confessed.
"C'mere, kid," Jack tugged at him, pulling him up against his chest so that he was once more supported by Jack's body.
"I gotta…the bomb—"
"—isn't going anywhere," Jack broke in. "Rest up a sec. You're not going through this alone—you've got me."
"Said that before," Mac let his eyes close, one hand resting on his midsection like a protective shield. His whole body hurt; each breath was like a brand cutting through his gut. But he had to push past it—had to find reserve strength…somehow…somewhere….
He had to save Jack—the words this time echoing in the back of his mind.
"Hey, Mac?"
"Hmm?"
"Look, whatever happens here?" Jack said softly, his hand resting on top of Mac's head. "It's not your fault. It was never your fault."
Mac blinked his eyes open, unable to lift his head to look at Jack. "Said that…before, too."
"Well…I mean it," Jack sighed. "You and me, bud…we've been through some shit—"
"No, I mean…you…you're saying things…," Mac drew a slow, shaking breath, "things you've said to me before…." Pain stabbed through his gut and his eyes slipped closed. He groaned low, trying to turn away from the pain but it was pervasive.
"Aw, geeze, Mac." Jack sounded like he was crying. "Kid, I'm so sorry…I'm sorry I couldn't do more. Get you out of this mess. I am sorry you're hurting, and I can't fix it."
Mac tried to steady his breathing.
"I'm sorry I can't stay with you," Jack sniffed.
And there it was. What he'd known from the moment he'd opened his eyes, the moment he'd heard Jack's voice. Jack had already accepted his fate.
"Yeah," Mac breathed. "Yeah, you can."
"What?" Jack sniffed. "What're you talking about?"
"You go kaboom…I go kaboom."
"Naw, no, no, no." Mac felt Jack shaking his head. "It doesn't end this way for you, Mac."
"I…I think it…already has," Mac whispered, blinking his eyes open.
"What the hell are you—"
"Some…something's not right," Mac whispered. "I'm not…I don't know why," he paused to take a shaking breath, "but I feel like…like somehow, this is it."
"Mac, now, you listen to me," Jack's voice hardened and grew commanding. Mac blinked. "This is not how it ends for you, hear me? Not this way."
"Why me, huh?" Mac felt his throat close with emotion. "Why not you?"
"Bud, I'd love to keep on going, tilting at windmills, blasting the bad guys out of the galaxy, you know I would," Jack sniffed, and Mac wanted to turn around and see his face, but he could barely take a breath without pain exploding behind his eyes. "But there are some things no amount of duct tape is gonna fix, and…man, I'm thinking this is one of those things."
"Jack…," Mac felt a sob catch in his throat.
"No, now. Look. Don't you do that, okay? You don't." Jack carefully lifted his arms and gently wrapped them around Mac's slender body, not pressing too much on his wounded side, or jostling himself away from the beam. Just holding him. "Something I've learned in all my years on this big ol' blue marble is that…life ain't about escaping pain. No matter how much we might want to. Pain…hell, it's inevitable. It's gonna happen to you one way or another, no matter what you do."
Mac felt him take a breath, his chest hitching against Mac's back.
"Once we get past that…pain can be a tool. It can…unlock a better life. Kinda like that little red knife of yours."
"But…what do I do with that?" Mac sniffed, the lump in his throat dissolving into tears that traced a path down his cheeks.
"You fuckin' live, man," Jack huffed, and Mac heard the smile in his voice. "You live and you keep doing your thing."
Mac lay still for a moment. Once more, they were two men on the same side of chaos. It was both comfort and camaraderie. And he didn't want to give it up.
"I'm not ready," Mac whispered.
"It's okay, Mac," Jack replied. "I just…ended up without a chair when the music stopped."
Mac shook his head. "I can fix this."
He pressed a hand to the floor, pushing himself forward with a low cry of pain, the fire along his side racing up through his mid-section and sweeping around his heart. He held himself still, trying to catch his breath. He could feel Jack's hands on him, against his back, at this side. He could hear his partner's voice urgent, insistent.
"…c'mon, now, I mean it!"
Mac gasped. "'m okay," he pushed to his knees, turning to face Jack and the bomb. "'m okay, Jack."
"You're not, now, you listen—hey! Hey. You listen to me, dammit!"
Mac sat back, slumping to the side, his body weaving as though the world was tilting around him. He clumsily grasped Jack's shirt, curling his fingers into the material and bracing himself. Jack's hand came up to the side of his neck, his thumb against Mac's jaw.
"You with me? Mac? You hear me?"
"Hear you," Mac managed, meeting Jack's eyes.
"You listen to me, right now." Jack's voice was as serious as Mac had ever heard it. "Meeting you? Being your overwatch? Your partner all these years? Man, it was like…finding the thermal exhaust port on the fucking Death Star. A once-in-a-million chance I'd get me a partner who literally saves the world. Bud, watching your back, keeping you safe…it's been the highest honor of my life."
Mac felt tears spill once more, his body held upright by Jack's grip alone.
"Jack," his voice broke around the name. "You saved me…in more ways than you know. You…," Mac sniffed, trying to steady his breathing. "I was lost…just didn't know it. But…with you looking out for me…I wasn't alone anymore. You…you saw me."
Jack smiled. "I sure as hell did."
"And I…I'm sorry," his voice caught against the back of his throat. "I'm so sorry I can't save you…."
"Aw, hell, kid," Jack turned him, gently, so that his shoulder rested against Jack's chest. Mac whimpered as the movement pulled at his side. He felt his heart stuttering. "Easy," Jack breathed. "Easy, you're okay, I gotcha…I gotcha."
"Jack…," Mac whispered. "Gonna rest…my eyes…for a bit."
"Just breathe, kid," Jack replied, his arms around him.
Mac felt his body shudder, his brows pulling close in pain. "Jack…."
"You're gonna be okay, Mac," Jack's voice echoed from somewhere both behind and above him, gruff and soft, filled with emotion.
This time when the darkness swept over him, Mac was defenseless. He felt its pull and relented, seeking solace for the pain that burned through him. Just as he felt himself slide over the edge, Jack's voice surfaced one last time.
"I'll see you on the other side."