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Things had moved too fast even for MacGyver to figure out exactly where this one had gone wrong. One moment he and Jack had split up to more efficiently canvass an empty decommissioned office building for possible signs of a terrorist cell. The next, he’d been surrounded by what he could only assume were said terrorists, armed to the hilt and sporting various mismatched tactical gear. He wasn’t sure how many of them there were, but they’d got the drop on him good.
Mac used anything he could find for cover and as makeshift weaponry, updating Jack as he went. He’d just flung an explosive tissue dispenser out into the room, when Jack came screaming in firing like a madman. Jack was exchanging fire one moment, fighting hand to hand the next. There weren’t many left standing when one of the terrorists that Mac had assumed was dead had suddenly tackled him from behind. There was more gunfire as they scuffled, Mac smacked his elbow into the guy’s face and he’d stopped moving, out cold. The weight of the unconscious body had Mac pinned down.
Mac grunted, staring at the off-white office ceiling tiles for a moment, slowly blinking in an effort to get the world to start moving at the right speed. He rolled over with some effort, trying to manoeuvre the dead weight of the terrorist off him and hoping to get himself behind an upended bookshelf and further out of the line of fire. He wasn’t sure how the man had managed to hit hard enough to completely knock the wind out of him, but damn it hurt. With some effort he managed to dislodge the body off him, but it still felt like his chest was on fire, his brain somehow rattling loose about in his head, though logically he knew he wasn’t moving at all. He could still hear gunfire and the sound of fighting, bodies hitting the floor that he hoped weren’t Jack.
“You alright, kid?” Jack’s voice was breathless, but loud and clear in Mac’s earpiece over the grunts and exchanged gunfire. Clearly the scuffle wasn’t over. “Mac?”
“Yeah. I think I just got the wind knocked out of me,” Mac muttered in answer, hoping it was the truth.
In reality, he was having a little bit of trouble thinking, a little more trouble breathing. Feeling more than a little disoriented, he raised a shaking hand to wipe the sweat from his eyes. He tried to get an elbow underneath him and push himself up a little to allow himself to at least see the action and make sure he was out of the line of fire. He just needed a moment to gather himself, that’s all. Then he could help Jack.
His arm shook to hold his weight high enough to see Jack, now fighting hand-to-hand with what must have been the last of the group. There was the sound of fists hitting solid flesh, grunts and then a loud crack as the pair hit a desk knocking computer equipment to the floor as they tumbled, still locked in battle, and stumbled awkwardly out of Mac’s view.
“Jack?” Mac cried out the name, not sure what else to do.
He tried to push up further to get to Jack, but apparently, he had not managed to gather his wits yet at all. He felt dazed, more than dazed even. It seemed like the room was fading in and out, slipping away then jerking back. The pain that had been slowly building in his side was getting more urgent, like a stitch from hell pulsing through his side. It felt a bit like he’d been running too far and too fast and just couldn’t catch his breath right any more. Maybe he’d torn a muscle when the guy had knocked him to the floor? Whatever it was, it hurt like fire and the pain wasn’t receding.
MacGyver reached down with his free hand, meaning to put some pressure on his side, rub the stitch out of his muscles. Instead he felt a warm, tacky wetness that he knew from experience was never a good thing. Shit! He brought his hand back to his face to examine it. Blood, red and sticky between his fingers, where he had touched his side. A sudden nausea hit him and it was in that moment the pain chose to escalate from fire to fucking hell.
“Jack?” This time the word came out on a whispered whimper, black dots threatening to swallow his vision suddenly as his breathing sped up. He was panicking and he knew it. Had to slow it down.
“Hey, hey kid. What the hell, thought you said you were just winded.” Jack was suddenly there, face all concern as he skittered to a halt at Mac’s side.
“I think it’s a bit worse than I thought, Jack,” Mac managed breathlessly, holding up his hand where the tacky red blood still stained his fingers. “It’s not . . . I don’t think it’s . . .”
Jack’s eyes widened and he leaned in, using both hands to canvass Mac’s body for injuries. When he reached Mac’s side, the air seemed to completely leave Mac’s lungs for a moment. He gasped wordlessly as the black spots coalesced together in his vision and, for a moment, the world went blissfully dark.
*****
They never split up. It was a rule Jack lived by. He can’t protect his bomb nerd if they aren’t in the same place. He’d explained it to MacGyver enough times over the years. Yet somehow Mac had convinced him this time. There were no signs of life anywhere, so it’d be more efficient to split up and canvass the building since they only had a few hours. Jack had reluctantly agreed, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut as he did it.
When the sounds of a fight broke out over his earpiece half an hour later, Jack was cursing himself for not digging his heels in as he ran back down four flights of stairs, following Mac’s breathless directions at first, and then the unmistakeable sounds of the fight itself.
Jack Barely paused long enough to take in the situation. Barely. Six terrorists left standing. Several not standing. Mac was pinned down, but even as Jack watched, he tossed something explosive into the room. It wasn’t so effective at taking the remaining bad guys out, but it was a perfect distraction. Jack went in, two guns firing. By the time the terrorists had realised what was happening, he’d taken down four. A fifth slammed into him, too close for the sixth to fire without hitting her, which lead to hand-to-hand two-on-one. Jack liked his odds.
“You alright, kid?” Jack asked into his open comm, as he managed to elbow the woman under the chin. Her head snapped back and she went down like a sack of potatoes. One left. “Mac?”
“Yeah. I think I just got the wind knocked out of me.” Mac’s tone of voice didn’t boost Jack’s confidence any.
The guy left standing tried to shoot point blank, but Jack sidestepped and grabbed his arm, the shots deflected harmlessly into the wall. They fell into a table together, still scuffling.
“Jack?” Mac called out, worry evident in his voice. “Jack?” This time Mac’s voice was closer to a whimper and Jack was suddenly sure something was very wrong.
At that moment, Jack gave up on a no-kill option and just snapped the man’s neck. He was kneeling at Mac’s side before the body hit the floor. On finding an unconscious bad guy right next to Mac, he gave him a swift kick. The guy moaned and Jack pistol whipped him. A quick check of the room found none of the others moving, so Jack allowed himself to move his attention to Mac.
Mac’s face was turning an unholy shade of pale when he held out his hand to Jack, tacky with fresh blood. shit! Blood that shade of bright red was a really bad sign. Mac’s tactical vest was still in place, so Jack went straight for the weak spot down Mac’s side where the vest couldn’t completely protect you. When his hands landed on the bloody wound, Mac gasped quietly before his eyes rolled back and his body went limp.
“No, no, no, come on, Mac! Stay with me.”
Jack patted MacGyver’s pale face, but got no response. He placed his other hand on the wound hard, hoping to slow the bleeding. That got a faint groan from the kid, but he still wasn’t alert. A bloody stain was beginning to spread out from Mac onto the industrial grey carpet.
Jack gave up trying to rouse Mac and instead dug into his tac vest for the satellite phone, quickly dialling Phoenix. When the number connected, he didn’t waste any time on preamble.
“We need immediate exfil. At least ten terrorists on site, all down at least for the moment. Mac’s hurt bad. I need medical on the line.”
Sat phone tucked into his cheek and chin, he quickly opened the Velcro holding Mac’s vest in place on his left side and ripped the fabric of his shirt beneath. The wound he revealed wasn’t large, and the shape suggested a knife rather than a bullet wound. He held more pressure with his bare hand as he popped open his thigh pocket to get to the sterile bandage that always lived there, ripped it open with his teeth, quickly placing it on the wound before continuing to hold pressure. He reached next for the trauma kit attached to the back of his tac vest.
“Medical here. Talk to me.” Doctor Shannon’s voice suddenly connected to Jack’s relief.
“Mac’s hurt, left side. Most likely a stab wound aimed upward and there is a lot of bright red blood. I’m applying pressure, but it’s only slowing it somewhat. He’s barely conscious. How do I get him to exfil?”
“Most likely to be spleen given your description. If that’s the case, you’ll have to find a way to cauterise the wound, Jack. That should stop the bleeding long enough to give exfil a chance to reach you.”
Jack took a steadying breath. “All right, Doc; talk me through it.”
“You’ll need something long and metal, and a way to heat it…”
Jack put the sat phone to speaker and set it next to them on the floor. While improvising was usually Mac’s gig, Jack was perfectly capable when required. He could do this. They were in an office, lots of stationery on nearby desks. Reaching up, he managed to pull open and remove the top drawer of the nearest desk one-handed without having to completely stop holding pressure on Mac’s wound.
“Okay, I’ve got . . .” Jack rummaged through the drawer. “. . . a metal pen. Looks fancy, maybe an alloy or something.”
“That should work, Jack, but you may need to wrap the end to protect your hand if it’s all metal.”
“Okay, good.” Jack reached into the top pocket of his tactical vest, pulling out his trusty lighter. He grabbed a nearby sticky tape dispenser and wrapped the end of the pen quickly, hoping that would create enough of a buffer to save his fingers while he heated it.
“So, I heat it up and then what?” Jack knew he was not going to be fond of the answer. He wasn’t.
“You’ll have to insert it through the wound, following the path of the knife. You should feel the spleen pulsing through the metal when you’re on top of it.” There was a pause, as the Doctor seemed to consider. “And Jack?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re going to have to pin him down somehow. If he’s even close to conscious…”
“This is gonna suck,” Jack finished for him.
*****
Mac groaned, eyes opening slowly to take in the off-white of a tiled office ceiling. It spun lazily and felt like deja vu. Then the pain hit him and he remembered why. There was a weight on his chest and thighs again. Someone in tactical gear was kneeling over him, on him, pinning him down. He was sure he’d managed to dislodge the guy earlier. Hadn’t he?
“Jack, help me.” Mac cried out, or at least tried to. It came out as more of breathy whisper as the weight continued to press him solidly into the floor. “Help!” He tried again.
He felt a tear slide freely down his face, as the pain in his side combined with being so helpless caught up to him.
“Shit, Mac,” Jack’s voice said. The person that had him pinned suddenly let up slightly and their head turned. Jack’s face looked down on him. “I’m so sorry, buddy. This needs to be done. I’ll make it quick as I can, all right. I’m so sorry. You know you can trust me, right? It’ll be done real soon.”
Before Mac could do much more than frown in confusion and nod slightly, Jack’s full weight came to bear again, effectively pinning Mac down and making it hard to breath. Mac felt his heart rate skyrocket, suddenly alert and frightened. He trusted Jack completely, he always had, but this wasn’t right. At the same time, he felt a certain pressure, one that he’d previously not realised was there, suddenly shift away from his side. Hands were prodding at his wound, pulling at it, making Mac cry out at the suddenness of it.
“Jack?” he asked, suddenly terrified. “Please, what are you . . . “ He didn’t finish the question.
“Sorry,” Jack whispered again and then Mac’s whole side was on fire.
Mac heard himself scream as he bucked against the weight holding his body down, but Jack was larger than him, heavier too and Mac didn’t have any leverage. Whatever was happening, every nerve ending in his body joined in as fire radiated out from the point of contact. It felt like he was being gutted. His hands scrabbled for purchase against the unforgiving material of Jack’s tactical vest and pants, his feet thrashing uselessly against the floor as cried out for the pain to stop, as he screamed Jack’s name. His teeth snapped shut as his throat clenched up and he wasn’t sure he could even draw another breath, skin suddenly cold as ice when it . . . just stopped.
Mac collapsed boneless into the floor, his entire body shaking, nerve-ending still overloaded and tingling like a livewire. He whimpered, eyes clenched shut as he tried to breath, as a disembodied voice asked, “Did it work?”
“I think so. Yeah, it’s definitely not bleeding as bad now.” Jack’s voice shook like Mac had never heard before.
Jack carefully lifted his weight off him, coming to kneel at Mac’s side instead. It felt like another eternity, before the burning sensation started to ease up a little. He felt a calloused hand holding his own, thumb running soothing circles over his palm. A hand ran through Mac’s hair, gently soothing, and jack’s voice murmuring encouragement.
“You did good, kiddo. You did real good.”
When Mac managed to open his eyes, Jack was leaning in over him and there were tears running freely down his face. Jack reached one bloody hand up to shakily run it though his hair. Mac felt Jack’s other hand carefully slide up to his wrist, fingers wrapping around his pulse point.
“You with me, Hoss?”
Mac inhaled, shakily. Let the breath out on a whimper as he realised there were tears streaming down his own face as well. He nodded at Jack, his bodyguard, overwatch, protector, closest thing he had to a father. He was still not quite sure what had just happened, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he was starting to put the pieces together.
“Jack?” Mac asked.
“Yeah, Bud?” Jack sniffed, wiped his nose on his sleeve.
“Please, don’t do that again,” Mac whispered.
Jack brought his forehead down to Mac’s, nose to nose. “I promise,” he whispered, breath warm against mac’s cold skin. “You did good, kiddo. You did really good. Just relax a minute. Exfil is on the way.”
Mac nodded. He felt like someone had drained every ounce of energy left in him, but jack was there and that meant safety. He could close his eyes for a moment and just breathe.
*****
Jack sighed heavily, running a shaky hand through Mac’s sweaty hair as the helicopter swiftly rose into the air. The medics were already hard at work, attaching lines and tubes and checking vitals. Jack recognised the moment the morphine hit Mac’s system. The lines of pain that had practically made a home in Mac’s brow over the last hours had eased considerably, as did the tight grip he’d had on Jack’s hand.
Jack found himself watching the medics do their thing, careful and competent. He let himself zone out a little as the adrenaline slowly seeped from his system. As always it left him feeling a bit punchy. This time it felt heavier though. He’d do it all again, of course. Anything to save this kid. But in the moment, it was necessary. Now his mind was flittering between fixating on the memory of Mac screaming in pain and forcing himself to remember the lyrics to Salt N’ Pepa classics instead.
He was gently humming shoop shoop ba-doops when he took his gaze back down to find Mac studying him intently, a slight frown on his face, like Jack’s a puzzle to be solved.
“Hey, buddy. Do you need something?” Jack asked.
Mac blinked slowly. “You did good, Jack. Thank you,” he said simply, giving Jack’s hand a comforting squeeze.
And Jack found his heart suddenly felt a whole lot lighter, like something he didn’t know he was holding on to had been shaken free. Jack blinked, concentrating on the medics again as he took a slow calming breath. When he looked back down Mac was studying him again. This time though, he just nodded and smiled deep enough to activate the dimples that Jack liked to tease him about.
“You did good,” he said again.
Mac let his eyes slide closed, looking safe and calm and that was all Jack needed, as the helicopter swiftly carried them home.
END.