Guard Your Heart

By: Ridley

A/N: Here we are at the end of this adventure. I'm a little sad to see it go, but I hope you have enjoyed reading as much as I have writing. I did not intend for this to be novel length but the muse wants what she wants I suppose. I have loved each and every review and comment, especially the ones that made me want to work harder and dig deeper to bring you a good story. Thanks to Gib, Kelcor, and my marvelous beta Mary, who truly worked wonders for me in this tale. I hope the end does not disappoint. For those Supernatural readers that have left reviews, I have not abandoned SN fandom. I love those boys, and will hopefully be returning soon.

RcJ

The first thing Jack became aware of was the heaviness at his side, a soft warm weight on his shoulder. For a brief instance he felt that old familiar dread, like when he'd left some bar with a woman who'd seemed just perfect when filtered with a tequila haze. In the light of day, however, Jack had often been slammed by awkward reality, finding himself all tangled up in a stranger's sheets with a far from perfect person whose name he couldn't quite recall.

Of course those rude awakenings had mostly transpired during Jack's young and stupid days and if the aching head and stiff body wasn't reminder enough that he was currently far from young, there was the smell that assaulted his senses as he became more aware-medicinal and institutional rather than the likes of cheap perfume and rancid alcohol. A somewhat sloppy kiss to his face had him reconsidering the idea of a bad hook-up despite the evidence to the contrary, but when he finally forced his eyes open he was greeted by the familiar fluorescent lights of a hospital room, the tell-tale beeping of medical machinery. Then warm brown eyes, lolling tongue set in a furry white face filled his vision.

Jack jerked, regretting the sudden reaction as soon as his chest and his leg registered the movement. He groaned, earning him another lick across his face from Curie. Thoughts of the big dog and why exactly she was in Jack's bed was enough of a jolt to bring back bits and pieces of what had transpired to land him in his current misery sending a shot of adrenaline through his still heavily drugged body. With understanding came a realization that he'd given almost anything for it to simply have been a very bad one night stand.

"Welcome back."

Jack blinked, trying to clear his bleary vision.

"Mac?" He cringed at the roughness of his own voice.

"I'm not sure the kid would appreciate the mix up, but I'm flattered considering I've not had hair in going on fifteen years." Hammond patted his side, giving Curie a command to come down from Jack's bed. "I'm pretty damn sure I'm lacking in the way of IQ as well."

"Hammond…" Jack's throat was sore, his mouth dry. He swallowed trying to get his bearings. The details were still hazy, almost like he had indeed indulged in too many drinks, but Jack knew his mental fogginess was caused by being under anesthesia. Honestly, he'd preferred tequila. It was obvious he was in a hospital, the nagging need to ask about his partner was painfully clear. "Where's Mac?"

"He's in ICU." Hammond folded his arms over his chest. "Wilt's with him. Pauley's standing watch, too. We want to make sure all the loose ends are tied up before we lax security or let our guards down completely."

"How long…" Jack tried to sit up, grateful when his former commander reached across him to push the button that would lift the top of the bed, sparing Jack from any more movement than necessary. Jack was certain he was getting some good drugs through the IV in his hand, but the persistent dull ache of pain he was still feeling was an unwelcome reminder of Jonas's need to punctuate his major points with bullets. He swallowed thickly when a wave of nausea washed over him, hand and hand with a wicked dizzy spell.

"You were in surgery for about an hour." Hammond seemed to know what Jack was asking without much preamble, one of the benefits from having been through many hospital scenes together. The general glanced at his watch. "There was a brief stint in recovery and you've been up here for about three more, although your doctor seemed to think you'd be out for a while longer." One corner of Hammond's mouth twitched in his otherwise serious face. "I told him that was doubtful knowing how stubborn you can be. You were out just long enough for everyone else to clean up this damn mess."

"How bad?" With growing conscious came more pain. Jack tried to take shallow breaths so to not disturb his ribs more than necessary.

"They plugged the holes in your leg and you've gotten a handful of broken ribs, bruised sternum which will make breathing fun for a while but…"

"No." Jack shook his head, regretting the action when the room spun and another bout of nausea had him reflexively swallowing. He narrowed his gaze at Hammond, pulling the oxygen cannula from beneath his nose to hand loosely around his neck. "Mac? I want to hear about Mac, damn it."

Hammond took a careful seat on the edge of Jack's bed, running a hand over his grim face. "Mac's not good."

The monitor by Jack's bed beeped, although Jack didn't need a machine to tell him his pulse had just kicked into overdrive. He could feel every beat of his heart reverberate through his hurting chest. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying the kid's systems are shutting down. The doctor went into greater detail, but basically Nobel's toxin has done a real number up here." Hammond tapped his own forehead. "From what I gather, it's paramount to some kind of massive short circuit."

"But the antidote…" Jack remembered Kamaka's explanations, the dire warnings he and Noelani had doled out about worst case scenarios. The antidote was supposed to fix all of that.

"Dr. Kamaka isn't sure we got it to him in time." Hammond kept his eyes locked with Jack's. "I'm sorry, son."

"That's bullshit!" Jack snapped, his voice hoarse, causing Curie to whine, her head popping up over the bed again as she placed her paws on Hammond's leg. "Mac's going to pull through. They don't know him like I do."

Hammond's silence was bad, but the look he leveled on Jack, the one full of empathy and understanding had Jack's eyes burning, his throat threatening to close up with unchecked emotion. The general didn't do pity, yet there it was, undeniable in his old friend's dark brown eyes. Jack felt the urge to plead his case. "You get that right, Ham. You've seen what he can do." He slowly started to peel back the tape that kept his IV in place, desperate for his fingers to do something, to focus on anything else besides Hammond's look that told him they were quite possibly fighting a losing battle. "You know Mac. He's not going to let this end him."

"Did I ever tell you about my boy?"

The soft question caught Jack off guard. He shook his head, swiping a hand over his face when one tear dared to breach his defenses. "You once mentioned being a parent, but I didn't get the feeling you wanted to elaborate."

"Douglass." Hammond said as he ran a hand over Curie's head, his eyes staring at something only he could see. "After Frederick Douglass. I figured having a renowned abolitionist as a namesake was far better than Perseus Jr. Besides, I loved the idea that my son would carry the legacy of a man who understood what it meant to be free. Ironically, maybe just to spite me, Douglass spent the last years of his life in a cage of his own construction." He took a deep breath before continuing, when his gaze met Jack's again, his eyes had hardened. "Drugs bound him as sure as shackles did any of our ancestors. He overdosed on some synthetic street grade heroine two days before his twentieth birthday."

"I'm sorry." Jack couldn't fathom losing a child, the kind of damage that did to a person. He did understand the pain he went through when his father had died and how that grief had eaten away at him, how it still hung heavy on his not so great days. It was almost the worst thing he could imagine. "But Mac…"

"Douglass was on life support for a week before I made the decision to let him go," Hammond interrupted Jack. He held Jack's gaze, unblinking. "It was the hardest thing I ever had to do and it broke my wife's heart, destroyed our marriage, and messed me up more than I can put in words, but it finally gave my boy his freedom. Sometimes we do what's right for those we love, even if it hurts like hell to do so."

"I'm not letting Mac go." Jack felt his temper flare as the impromptu story started to resonate as one of the general's teachable moments. The idea of pulling the plug on his partner, his best friend and brother did more to energize him than another dose of adrenaline. He didn't fly to Hawaii, let Nobel have his way, and jeopardize everything he held precious in his life to have it all end with Mac paying the ultimate price. He struggled into a more upright position, pain receptors tempered down by the recent burst of emotion. "I'm sorry about your son, Ham. Damn sorry. But I'm not cutting the string on my kid because you seem to think we're in some similar situation here. "

"Your MacGyver's next of kin, Jack, you have his power of attorney." Hammond said calmly, reasonably.

"I'm aware," Jack grit out, briefly wondering if maybe he was still unconscious and the entire surreal conversation with Hammond was some kind of drug-induced nightmare. The sharp bite of pain when Jack pulled the IV needle from his hand destroyed that fleeting hope.

"Dr. Kamaka was going to have this talk with you in case Mac reaches the point of no return, if the worst happens and he's brain dead, like with Douglass." Jack almost felt bad for the general, the man obviously uncomfortable in the role he'd been cast. Although he appreciated the fact Hammond had dug into his painful past as a way to try and relate with Jack, it pissed him off that he'd even suggest Mac was beyond help. Jack wasn't willing to even discuss the idea of Mac not making a full recovery with anyone, even someone he understood loved Mac, too.

"I thought it would be better coming from me." Hammond went on as he gestured to Jack's now bleeding hand. "Better for the doctor anyway, knowing your tendency to kick ass first and listen to reason later."

"Reason? Don't talk to me about reason. The doctors didn't think I'd pull through after Iraq." Jack pointed out, pitching the I.V. out of the bed. He forced himself to unclench his fist, as Hammond's attempt at lightening the mood struck too close to home. If he'd been able, kicking someone's ass wouldn't have been out of the realm of possibility. He'd at least have thrown a good punch at Hammond to knock some sense into him. As it was, he wasn't certain he wouldn't need the man's help to get out of the damn bed. "Mac didn't' give up on me. Not even when I was ready to say goodbye."

"Your situations weren't the same, son, and you know it." Hammond looked weary as he slid a hand down his face. "Your injuries were grave, but they were ones that could heal given time."

Jack swallowed hard, a new wash of tears blurring his vision. He silently cursed the drugs that were obviously wreaking havoc with his emotions, making his impenetrable walls too easy to breach. "Are you not telling me something? Did Kamaka tell you that Mac's brain…," Jack couldn't even bring himself to say the words out loud, the idea of Mac losing what defined who he was as terrifying as anything Jack had ever faced.

"No." Hammond quickly shook his head "Mac's brain functions are irregular, depressed, but he's still responding. Kamaka just wanted to make you aware that things could go south, so you could be on the same page with the team treating Mac, and I…well, I wanted you to know I have your back, that I understand what kind of weight you're bearing."

"I want to see him." All Jack needed to hear was that Mac was still holding on, that he was still with them. He didn't give a shit about being on the same page with some medical team. He only wanted to be with his partner. If Hammond wasn't on board to help with that goal, then Jack would figure something out. Crawling wasn't out of the realm of possibility.

"You aren't in the best shape yourself, Tombstone." Hammond folded his arms over his chest once more, his eyes briefly going to the still freely bleeding puncture wound the IV had left behind. He shook his head, holding up a hand when Jack started to open his mouth. "But going back to my earlier point on good reason, I'll see if I can make that happen before you cause some sort of scandal and get us all kicked out here or more than likely, do more damage to yourself. Like I said before, I've got your back. Always. So before you break something or pull something else loose, let me go get your nurse."

"Thank you." Jack relaxed against the pillows, feeling drained. He gave his old friend a nod as Hammond stood. "And thank you for having my back with Jonas. You're still a hell of a shot- for an old man who's spent the last three years behind a desk."

"I was cradling a rifle before your momma rocked you in her arms, son." Hammond arched a brow at Jack. "But taking care of Jonas was something I should have done a long time ago, instead of sending your team into handle it." Hammond inclined his head, giving a heavy sigh. "Jonas was my mistake, not yours. This all falls at my feet."

Jack could no more allow Hammond's willing acceptance of the responsibility for what happened to Mac than he could take the news that Mac might be terminal. But just as the general knew Jack's flaws, Jack also understood his former commander wasn't one to back down. He rubbed a hand over his burning eyes. "I'm just glad the bastard's dead and this whole mess is over. It is over, right?"

"As far as our side of it, it's over. We'll let the DEA and Joint Commission untangle any knots. And as for Jonas, I'm pretty sure he not only got what he deserved, but what he wanted." Hammond moved to the door, stopping to face Jack once more when he got there. "Speaking of what's deserved, I want you to consider your dept paid in full, Jack. No more missions. As of today, you're retired, for good this time."

"I thought an order like that had to come from someone with a couple more stars than even an old war dog like you has, Brigadier General Hammond." Jack arched an eyebrow at his old commander.

"You better than most should know it doesn't always come down to brass, Tombstone. Sometimes it just boils down to how badly a man wants to make something happen." Hammond called Curie to his side, not giving Jack a chance to respond before he and the lumbering dog disappeared.

Jack stared up at the ceiling, not caring that he could feel a tear slide down the side of his face. He had once wanted nothing more than to get Mac out of the Army. Jack had made that happen. He'd gotten them both home, but there were no last minute deals to make this time to liberate Mac, to get his brother back to safety. Jack had once promised Mac that a little faith could move a mountain, and he was desperate for that to be truth, because at this point a little hope was all Jack seemed to have. For Mac's sake and his own, he prayed it was enough.

RcJ

Mac blinked, his eyes opening without much effort. He frowned in confusion when darkness greeted him. Trying not to panic, he slowly sat up, grateful when nothing hurt or protested the action. His frown deepened when he felt cold, rough stone beneath his hands instead of what should have been cool sheets and a bed. It took Mac a little while to recognize the strange landscape. The vast darkness surrounding him didn't make pinpointing where he was any easier. His eyes were slow to adjust, and even when his vision modified to make out the chimneys and rock formations around him, his brain couldn't reckon with what he was seeing. Mac could not fathom why or how he was in Colorado, in the bowels of a cave he hadn't thought of in years. It made no sense considering Mac's last conscious memory was of Hawaii in the ICU of a hospital and the trip to Cave of the Winds had taken place years before, an impromptu adventure with Mac's dad.

Mac slowly got to his feet, noticing the lack of any lightheadedness. Taking a deep breath of the damp cold air of the cave he noticed the absence of the iron band that had seized his lungs earlier. Grateful for the ability to breathe once more, he did a 360 degree turn, suddenly lost in memories that seemed a lifetime ago.

James MacGyver had once been an avid spelunker, tackling caves such as Lechuguilla in New Mexico, and other notable caverns that allowed only skilled and vetted climbers and explorers a glimpse of their secrets. Mac's dad had been insistent on sharing a tame version of his experiences with his young son a few years after Mac's mother had passed. Although Mac had no idea what prompted the inspired trip, he had been excited at the prospect, hopeful that the journey might somehow uncover the father he remembered before his mother died. Unfortunately, the trip had taken a disastrous turn, only seeming to widen the gap between them.

Mac blamed the gypsum flowers. They weren't actually flowers, but mineral formations created when water picked up carbon dioxide and Sulphur on its way underground and transformed into sulfate prismatic crystal petals radiating from a central point to the degree of mimicking the appearance of an actual blooming plant. Even as a seven year old Mac had been fascinated by chemistry and the idea of these incredible subterranean occurrences brilliantly displayed in the glossy brochure his father had given him had captured his imagination completely. He became obsessed with seeing them for himself, which would have been fine if his father had taken the lantern tour which promised each participant a glimpse into one of the chambers containing the rare configurations, as well as their very own piece of gypsum at the end of the tour. James MacGyver, advanced spelunker and expert penny pincher that he was, insisted on taking a self-guided tour which he claimed would allow them more father/son time with the added benefit of sparing the extra cost.

When James ignored Mac's protests, Mac had taken it upon himself to rectify the slight by slipping away from his father at his first chance. He was determined and quite confident that he could use the map to locate the Gypsum Room, where he'd collect his own specimen and have ample time to study the flowers, but instead had ended up lost and very much alone. Mac swallowed, trying to ignore the increased beating of his heart that came with the recollection of how frightened he'd been. Not much different than the state he seemingly found himself currently. Only he wasn't seven.

As grown as he was, Mac experienced an unexpected onrush of that same old terror he had experienced as a child, compounded by the instantaneous return of physical distress he remembered quite well from his hospital room in Hawaii. He was suddenly freezing. Every inch of him hurt, as if he'd fallen from one of the outcroppings, hitting every jutting rock on his way down. He longed for a way out of both the cave and away from his current misery. Mac groaned, his body demanding he reclaim his seat on the rough rocky floor, an impulse he was all too willing to give into when he heard his name.

Mac faltered, an all too familiar pain reawakening in his chest. The voice was faint, like an echo from a great distance. For a moment he thought it was his father calling for him from the past, but when his name rebounded around the walls again, Mac was overcome with a wash of relief, an almost bodily tug towards the sound.

"Jack."

Thoughts of his partner buoyed Mac, giving him the strength to remain on his feet. Jack was looking for him, and Mac searched the darkness for a sign of which direction he should go to seek out his partner. Jack's voice reverberated again, fainter this time. Mac flinched as the ache in his head and chest seemed to rise, even as hope of a rescue faded.

"Jack?" He choked on the syllables this time, his breath becoming forced, once more slipping from his control. "No…" His fingers tightened on the stone wall, fighting to give him the leverage to remain upright.

Mac wanted to move, yet he had no idea which way to turn. Whatever light his pupils had allowed him momentarily started to shrink around him. Panic of being left alone once more prompted Mac to try and take a step. His feet refused to move even as his body lurched forward. Mac reached out hoping to buffer his blunder, expecting the pain of impact only to be met surprisingly with no resistance at all. He fell headlong into oblivion.

RcJ

Jack stopped talking, having thought he felt the slightest twitch from the cold fingers he held gripped in his hand. He searched Mac's still face, willing his best friend to open his eyes. There was no movement, the only sound now that Jack had stopped his latest story was that of the ventilator. Its awful hiss enough to prompt Jack to resume speaking even though his throat was sore and his energy waning. He pushed past the football sized lump that had sprung to his throat when he'd thought Mac had given even a tiny sign of life for the first time in the two days he'd been sitting at his partner's bedside.

"Come on, brother." Jack shook his head, eliciting a dizzy spell. He used his free hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose. The move had him wincing as his broken ribs made themselves known. So did his leg, the throbbing now a constant reminder. He'd cut back on the pain medicine so he could stay somewhat vigilant. "Haven't you punished me enough? I mean, forty-eight hours of sitting here creating new ways to tell you how much of an ass I am, and what a mess I've made of things between us has to count for something. Right?" He took a shallow breath."I mean, I think I've groveled in every way possible."

Jack had not only apologized, but begged, pleaded, cajoled for Mac to come back to them. He'd promised everything, including not grumbling anytime it was Mac's turn to pick take-out and he chose the fru fru crap at the all vegan, no GMO, all locally grown, no taste food truck. "Give a guy a little break and wake up, even if it's just to agree with all the shit I've been confessing."

Jack had not only copped to all the lies he'd ever told over the years concerning missions, but admitted to every slight and misdirection he might have used against Mac in the name of keeping him safe in the field. This included things such as secretly beating the shit out of two agents who had even dared to think targeting Mac for some boyish bullying when they'd first come to Phoenix would fly, chewing Thornton a new one when she had the nerve to suggest forcing Mac to carry a weapon on all sanctioned missions, to using his own sources to try and track down Mac's father-long before Jack ever suggested Mac try it on his own. Jack didn't even leave out the part where he planned to make James MacGyver disappear for good. None of it had pissed off Mac enough to garner even the slightest indication that he was still fighting, that he wasn't completely lost to them as days went by and the doctors were starting to believe the worst.

"Please, Mac." Jack gripped his partner's hand tighter in his, not even ashamed of the brokenness in his voice. He'd given up any pretense of stoic strength and stalwart fortitude at the first sight of the kid he considered his little brother. Jack was glad Bozer had stepped out to give him some privacy on that initial day because he hadn't handled seeing Mac hooked up to all the machines, looking somehow impossibly younger and entirely vulnerable very well. In fact, Jack had never been more grateful to be in a wheel chair because he was pretty certain his legs might have failed him even if he hadn't had a bullet wound in one.

"Please, God." Jack squeezed his eyes shut, resting his head on Mac's arm, which was thankfully cool, the fever at least seeming to respond to the antidote. The pain the movement brought was a welcoming distraction. Jack had resorted to praying and then bargaining which was so out of his comfort zone it was almost comical. He'd thought of calling his Nana Beth, figuring she had more pull with the Big Guy upstairs but couldn't quite figure a way to explain to her what had happened to Mac. He knew his best friend wouldn't want to worry anyone else, but Jack didn't do desperation well. He tended to make a mess of things.

It wasn't like he hadn't seen Mac hurt before, even seriously injured like in Helmand, but there was a vacancy in the room this time. Mac had seemed to somehow slip away, leaving a mere shell behind. The experience was all too familiar, one not unlike what Jack had gone through with his father in his old man's final days when Jack had also talked a blue streak, as one-sided a conversation as the ones he still indulged with his dad at a marble rock in the cemetery.

"It will kill me, Mac," Jack whispered, eyes still closed. The thought of interacting with Mac only in a graveyard was unimaginable. "I won't do it. I can't."

"Jack?"

The touch on his shoulder startled Jack. He found Riley's worried eyes when he quickly righted himself in the chair, fighting hard to keep his breathing even, if shallow, careful not to reveal how much the sudden movement had hurt. "Hey, Riles." Jack wiped a hand over his face wincing at the growth of beard, knowing he probably looked like hell, especially if Riley's distressed expression was any indication. He forced a half smile for their computer tech's benefit. "Did you and Bozer grab some lunch?"

"Lunch was hours ago, Jack." Riley bit her lip as her concerned gaze went to Mac, then the machine breathing for him. She'd made it to the island the day before, thanks to Hammond's generous use of military property. McGarrett had gotten her and Bozer set up in hotel rooms close to the hospital, although both his teammates had been reluctant to leave Mac. "It's six."

"I guess time got away from me." Jack sat up straighter, releasing Mac's hand as he rolled some of the stiffness from his shoulders and brought his other arm to cover his aching mid-section. He resisted shifting his leg which was demanding he do so because Riley already looked upset and he didn't want to add to her worry.

"Did you at least sleep?" Riley took a seat on the edge of the hospital bed, letting her fingers wrap around Mac's, as if she, like Jack was afraid that Mac might not be able to find his way back if they didn't provide a constant tether.

"Yeah," Jack lied, doubling over slightly when his ribs twinged from ther hours of sitting in the same position. He'd already gone a few rounds with Steve on his need to actually use the bed he had on the fourth floor, instead of refusing to leave ICU. Surprisingly, Danny Williams had been the one to defend Jack's position, silencing his partner by pointing out Steve had never used good sense when it came to self-preservation and he shouldn't expect Jack to know any better considering they were cut from the same proverbial cloth that comprised all Neanderthal special forces drones. Jack was still adjusting to 'Danno's' love language.

"He'd be pissed that you're not following doctor's orders." Riley nodded to Mac, not looking one bit repentant when Jack narrowed his gaze at her. He didn't need anyone else nagging him. "You look like crap, almost as bad as he does. At least take a shower so you're not scaring the nurses and come to dinner with me and Bozer in the cafeteria."

"No." Jack shook his head emphatically. "I'm not leaving him alone."

"General Hammond offered to stay. Your friend, Pauley did too. We'll just be downstairs." There was a touch of pleading in Riley's tone, one that Jack had rarely heard. It had his chest tightening, knowing he was probably making a bad situation worse with his stubbornness but unable to just pretend that things were normal enough for him to have a meal with his team. Without Mac there was no team, at least not for Jack. Even the thought of food made his stomach churn. He could imagine Mac's disappointment that Jack was failing at holding his shit together for their make-shift family but still couldn't find it in him to relinquish his duty to someone else. Watching Mac's back was his job. "Making yourself sick will not help him. Mac would not want… "

"Don't." Jack hadn't meant to snap at her, but he didn't want to hear what his partner would or wouldn't want at this point. It was too close to the talk he'd had with Mac's medical team earlier. He took a breath and let it out with a sigh, making a real effort to soften his features, to put some care into his words. He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes meeting Riley's. "Why don't you guys get out of this place, bring me back a couple of those Spam corndogs that Bozer keeps going on about, darlin'? Or some more of that magic shrimp that Kamekona brought by yesterday."

The fact Riley didn't call him on the whole 'darlin' thing was evidence she was cutting him some major slack he did not deserve. When she didn't pull away when Jack cupped his hand over Mac's once more, effectively trapping her fingers between them, he hoped the truce they'd formed at Christmas was still standing. When she offered a familiar smirk and held her free hand out in expectation, Jack felt his eyes sting.

"I'm not paying," she said with her usual attitude.

"Do I look like I have money on me?" Jack rolled his eyes, secretly pleased that the sassy girl he knew and loved was once more in the forefront. He gestured to the tee-shirt and gray sweats Steve had brought him. Jack hadn't even balked at the damn Navy getup this time, although a gown with a draft that showed his bare ass was almost preferable. "It's not like this hospital garb has pockets, sweetheart."

"Fine," Riley huffed. She carefully extricated her hand from between Mac and Jack's as she stood. "I'll add it to your ever growing tab, but I expect to be wined and dined properly when Mac is on his feet before we leave this island. I'm talking La Mer, which Jerry said is fabulous, not some food truck owned by your new friend Kamekona."

"When Mac is back on his feet, you can have anything you want, kiddo." Jack meant it. He'd already sworn to live a saint's existence, among other impossible things like a life of chastity. Cleaning out his retirement fund to treat his team to a real vacation was nothing, after all, it was highly likely Jack would die on the job long before he got to take over his grandparent's ranch.

"You're my witness, Mac." Riley continued to tug at Jack's fragile defenses as she leaned over and tenderly brushed a hand over Mac's hair, going so far as to whisper something in the blonde's ear. When she straightened she gave Jack another smirk, an evil twinkle in her eyes. "We'd also like a cushy room at the Hilton, and to see you on a surfboard."

"I'll make sure to buy some flowered Speedo's for the occasion." Thanks to losing a bet to no other than Steve McGarrett while on the coast of Australia, Jack could actually surf. It might be fun to surprise his young friends.

"Stop." Riley pulled a disgusted face. "Some of us actually want to eat dinner, old man."

"Then get to it before I ruin your appetite with the next story I'm about to share with Mac." Jack bobbed his eyebrows. "It has a naked super model and me on a Vespa."

"Escaping your grossly exaggerated tales, emphasis on gross, should really be reason enough for Mac to wake up sooner rather than later." Behind the smirk on Riley's face Jack could see the uneasiness still lurking there.

"You'd think, right." Jack gave her a watery smile. "At least on stakeouts he has those damn paper clips to distract him from all my yammering."

"Keep talking," Riley assured, giving his arm a squeeze. "He'll come around."

"Why are you so sure of that when everyone else seems to think I'm wasting my time?" Jack met her gaze, he really wanted to know. He needed someone else on his side besides Danny Williams, someone who understood Mac. Even Bozer was starting to lose some of his optimism, looking far too much like a guy who'd just lost his best friend.

"Because I know Mac would do anything not to disappoint you." Riley surprised Jack once again by brushing his cheek with a quick kiss before moving towards the door. Jack might have imagined it, but he thought he heard her say something about her and Mac having that in common. She was gone before Jack could clear his throat of the lump that had once more reappeared.

"I guess miracles never cease, brother." Jack reached up and mimicked Riley's earlier move, sliding his hand over Mac's hair, letting his fingers move to rest against his partner's neck for a moment just to feel the reaffirming beat of a pulse. "Which means there's no reason you can't pull off a last minute recovery before the doc gives me yet another briefing on your odds and the decisions I'm going to have to make for you soon."

Jack reclaimed his best friend's hand. "What do you say? Spare this old heart anymore grief?" The sounds of the ventilator seemed to increase in the expanse of expectation, causing Jack to sigh. "Then I guess you'll just have to endure my days in grand ole pari." Jack squeezed lax fingers, ignoring the dull pounding behind his eyes. "Because I'm not giving up, bud. That's not going to happen so you might as well come on back and spare us both the recanting of some of Jack Dalton's less than finer moments." Jack shook his head when his partner remained defiantly and painfully still. "Alright then. Be stubborn. Where should I start? Well, for one, there's a reason a guy should never steal a Vespa for a getaway vehicle, especially if said guy is lacking in the pants department and is packing a very large gun…"

RcJ

The gypsum was more magnificent than Mac had imagined. Pictures didn't do it justice. Only moments before he'd awoken in the chamber he'd never found and explored as a boy. His breathing was easier here, getting up not a problem. It required no thought on his part. Any hint of his earlier agony was only a faint echo in his head and chest, like a quickly fading memory.

Mac traced a finger over one of the petals, awed by how the minerals seemed to glow from within when he touched it. It was mesmerizing, the entire room a wash of warm, welcoming light. It chased the cold from his bones. For a moment he was saddened by the fact he hadn't discovered this place when he was a boy, nor had a chance to share it with his dad. Instead, all those years ago, he'd fallen into the rapidly moving, gratefully shallow stream that ran through the caves. He'd been wet, nearly frozen and miserable when his father and the rangers had finally found him hours later huddled in an enclave. Mac moved his eyes over the glowing minerals, his regret quickly passing. He found it hard to be distressed while in the presence of such serene beauty. In fact, he felt happy, content. At peace.

Mac slightly tilted his head, certain he'd heard a noise. At the sound of his name he whirled around, this time thoughts of his mother flooded him. For a moment he almost imagined he could see her, shimmering among the garden of gypsum. She beckoned, but Mac frowned when the female voice that whispered through his mind again conjured different images. Ones of his home in California. People gathered at the fire pit on the back deck under a wash of stars almost as beautiful as the crystals surrounding him. His mother disappeared. Mac's hand still hovered over one of the crystal petals, a quick, sudden jolt of pain making him close his eyes for a second.

"Riley." Mac's breath caught with the thought of his friend. Bozer's face flashed before him, bringing a returning and unwelcome ache lancing through his head. The peace he'd embraced earlier started to slip away and he curled into himself as his lungs seized. Mac's strength deserted him and he slid down to one knee.

"Jack," Mac gasped, his head coming up as he once more heard his partner calling for him. His eyes locked on the one bleak place in the cavern, vision blurring slightly. It was void of crystals and it took Mac a second to realize it was the entrance that would lead him back into the cold, damp cave where he'd been lost as a child. He hesitated even when Jack's voice came to him again, desperate and frightened.

Mac had no doubt of the direction which he needed to take to reach his best friend, but also understood that with each step away from the light, pain would quickly gain ground, the understanding scaring him more than he cared to admit. Mac knew he had a decision to make. Staying would bring him solace and comfort, maybe even a reunion with those he had lost, but would leave Jack alone out in the darkness. A sudden image of his best friend, lying unconscious and pale on McGarrett's office couch flickered through his swirling mind. It spurred him on to make it back on his feet, and to take his first step towards the dark.

RcJ

Jack jerked awake, startled. His wounded body rebelled at the sudden movement that brought every injury to the forefront once more, dispelling the temporary reprieve of sleep. He cursed himself for drifting off on watch. The nagging sense he'd strayed from a vital post had him turning his head despite the crick in his neck brought on from sleeping slumped over the hospital bed to check on Mac, one hand still wrapped around his middle. He studied his friend with a trained eye, tilting his head as he took in the slack features, frowning. Mac was still out, but something was different.

He squeezed his partner's hand, the one still gripped in his own. "Come on, kiddo." He mumbled under his breath. Hope warred with dread as he leaned forward a little. When Mac opened his eyes, Jack almost fell off his chair.

"Mac!" He tightened his hold on the kid's fingers, praying he wasn't still asleep and only dreaming. He made it to his good leg, propping himself on the side of the bed. "Mac? Can you hear me? Stay with me, brother."

Mac blinked, his brow furrowing as he slowly regained consciousness. He turned his head slightly toward Jack and it was enough to have Jack nearly collapsing with relief.

"You're okay," Jack assured as he watched Mac's face react to awakening, seeing lines of discomfort appear. "I'm here. You're safe." Jack squeezed Mac's arm reassuringly with his free hand. He knew first hand exactly how disorienting and uncomfortable it was to come around surrounded by equipment in an unfamiliar setting. Throw in the vent tube and it was a far from pleasant experience. It could be damn scary, and panic inducing for someone like Mac who liked to be in control of a situation. It was a trait they shared and Jack had learned the hard way that Mac quickly regained enough of his faculties to pull things out that should stay where they were. As if Mac could read his thoughts, he started to squirm, becoming agitated, the constant beeping of the heart monitor increasing. The hand not being held by Jack, lifted towards the breathing tube.

"Easy, kiddo." Jack caught the younger man's wrist, careful of the IV, placing it back on the bed. The stubborn almost petulant look he received for his trouble brought a relieved chuckle from Jack, though his eyes flicked back to the heart monitor. "I know that thing is uncomfortable as hell, but how about we let the doctors earn their money by removing it. Leave it alone. Alright?" Jack's gaze searched Mac's clouded one. He doubted Mac the kid completely comprehended what he was saying, but he at least hoped he understood that Jack was with him and that he needed him to stay still.

Mac's eye lashes fluttered, eyes going unfocused again. It spurred spurring Jack to bring a hand to his face. He needed to keep the kid awake. "Stay with me, though. No more sleeping, Mac. You've got enough beauty sleep in to do you a few years."

Jack offered a blinding grin when his partner actually looked up at him, more awareness in his blue gaze this time. The frown on Mac's pale face deepened. Pain must have come with the cognition because when Mac blinked again, a couple of tears tracked down his temples to disappear into the pillow below. Jack's chest clenched, knowing that his best friend was probably hurting. Since the onset of the respiratory failure, the doctors hadn't given him anything except the antidote and necessary fluids, afraid to alter or compromise the chemistry of the serum they had administered. Having tubes shoved down your throat, and IV's running to and fro was a bitch even with a good drug buffer.

"I know you're hurting, bud. Just hold on. I'm going to call a nurse okay?" Jack released one of Mac's hands, leaning over his partner to press the call button that would bring relief for his best friend. "We need some help in here," he said a little breathless when one of the nurses at the front desk responded. His ribs protested at the awkward position. "Can you page Dr. Kamaka? Mac's awake."

Before Jack could move from over his partner, Mac's hand raised again, latching onto the front of Jack's shirt with surprising strength. The kid's fingers twisted tightly in the fabric. It was clear Mac wanted to say something, frustration mixing with the pain and disorientation easily read in his blue eyes as he choked on the tube preventing him from talking.

"Hey now." Jack gently wrapped his fingers around Mac's wrist, giving a slight squeeze. He fought to ignore the new spike in the increased beeping. "Surely you can wait a little longer to tell me how pissed you are at me. I won't even try to deny how much of an ass I've been"

An all too familiar stubborn frown crossed Mac's features and he looked momentarily confused. He gave a slight shake of his head, and Jack felt as if he had something wedged in his throat as well. Before he could swallow and speak again several nurses swarmed them.

"Jack, we need you to step back." He was on a first name basis with most of the nurses treating Mac. Harper, who had even stayed over after a shift one night entertaining he and Bozer with tales of the surfing circuit that had brought him all the way from Savannah, Georgia via the Army to work in Hawaii was the one at Jack's side now. He lightly touched Jack's arm. "Let's get you back in your chair." Not for the first time Jack wondered how bad he really looked when he caught the brief concerned look Harper was giving him.

"Just give me one second." Jack said as Mac grew agitated again once surrounded by the unfamiliar faces. "I want to make sure he's okay."

"We've got this. We'll take care of him," Harper insisted, his grip on Jack's arm a little more insistent.

Mac only tightened his own hold on Jack's shirt when Jack turned to look at Harper. He started choking again as he fought to speak. The beeping of the heart monitor reaching disturbing levels as another alarm sounded when a nurse gently peeled Mac's fingers from the folds of Jack's shirt.

"Mac, it's okay." Jack felt his own eyes burn, his emotions barely in check as he fought against well-honed instincts to protect his partner as the professionals trying to help him only elicited more panic in the younger man. Mac was still gripping his other hand, weakly fighting against the nurse who had captured the one with the IV. "Just take it easy, brother. These folks are going to help."

"Jack? What's going on?" Bozer burst into the room, breathless, followed closely by Riley. "Is he awake?"

"We're going to need you all to step out for a moment." Dr. Kamaka's voice was commanding and as unflappable as ever as he manuevered his way past the two newcomers, hurrying into the small room along with a colleague and the chemist who had come all the way from Washington to assist on Mac's case.

"Come on, Jack." Harper was patient, but the look he leveled on Jack told him that he'd use his six foot plus frame to escort him out if he needed to. "The sooner we let Dr. Kamaka have a go, the sooner you can come back."

As much as Jack hated it, he let go of Mac, slipping his hand out of his partner's grip. The kid's look of pleading was almost his undoing, yet he allowed Harper to replace him at Mac's bedside, blocking him from his partner's view. Bozer stepped up behind him to help him to his chair, Riley pushing it out of the room into the hallway, where the three of them watched as another doctor hurriedly entered Mac's room.

"Jack?" Bozer tried again, dropping to a knee so they were eye level, although Jack continued to stare at the door to Mac's room, cursing that he'd had all the blinds on the windows of the small ICU space closed for privacy. Now that he was an outsider he wanted nothing but to be able to see what was taking place. "What happened? Did Mac wake up?"

Jack cleared his throat, working to get his emotions back in check before he met his younger teammate's gaze. "He woke up."

"That's good, right?" Bozer let his eyes flick to Riley who was still standing behind Jack's chair. Jack couldn't see her but he could almost feel the tension radiating from the hand she had placed on his shoulder. He looked at Jack again, uncertainty flashing in his dark gaze as if he couldn't quite understand why Jack was so upset if Mac was indeed awake. "I mean awake is better than unconscious any day of the week."

Jack managed a nod, although he wasn't sure Mac would have agreed with Bozer's statement at the moment. He felt a tinge of guilt for thinking he'd take a scared, hurting Mac over an empty vessel of a best friend every time. "Awake is good, Boze, but it can be a bitch when you're the one who's been out of it for a while."

Harper came out of the room before Bozer could reply, he strode towards Jack, holding up a hand when Jack made to stand. "Easy there, big guy. I just came to give you an initial update." Harper nodded for Riley to move them to a small area out of the center of the ICU floor where nurses were bustling about the center desk like drones in a honeybee hive. "Mac's breathing on his own now." Harper said, as soon as they had a modicum of privacy. "Dr. Kamaka removed the vent and his lungs seem to have recovered proper function."

"Thank God." Jack ran a hand over his face. "Has he said anything?"

"Just your name," Harper said gently, shaking his head when Jack once more made to get up. "Dr. Kamaka had to give him a slight sedative to keep him calm. He was disoriented and fighting us. There are some tests and scans the doctors need to run before Mac's allowed any more visitors. He will be down in radiology for at least an hour, possibly more."

"But…" Jack started.

"No buts, Jack." Harper glanced to Riley and Bozer. "Mac is going to need you all when he's fully back to himself, which means you all need to make sure you're at your best."

Jack growled. "If you're going to tell me to go get some rest…"

"Actually, I was going to strongly suggest you let a nurse change the bandages on your leg. Then maybe take a shower and get a shave." Harper folded his arms over his chest, giving Jack a firm, no-nonsense look. "There's been complaints."

"Told you so," Riley murmured and Jack turned his head to glare at her.

"Eating something might also take the edge off your dour demeanor," Harper added with a slight smile.

"Our boy does get hangry," Bozer agreed, knowingly. "Trust me when I say you don't want to see him when he goes all Hulk."

Jack shot him a narrowed scowl as well which only seemed to make Bozer's point. "Fine," Jack conceded. "I'll go to my room and take a shower and grab some food, but you have to promise to text me as soon as Mac's back in his room."

"I'll come find you myself." If Jack wasn't mistaken Harper was looking straight at Riley when he made that generous offer.

"A text is good, dude," Bozer interrupted, moving to take his place next to their computer tech. "You all have excellent Wi-fi in the cafeteria."

Harper kept his easy grin in place as he turned his gaze once more to Jack. "I promise I'll stay with Mac during the tests. If he comes to, I'll make sure he knows you're all waiting for him."

"Thanks." Jack gave another longing glance towards the door of Mac's room, unable to escape the feeling that he was somehow once more leaving his best friend when Mac needed him most. Harper started to walk away but Jack caught his arm before he could go, wincing when the motion tugged at his ribs. He'd almost forgotten what Steve had told him Mac said after Jack had passed out on the rooftop, but his partner's words seemed to echo through his mind now, eliciting a grin Jack didn't quite feel. "Tell him I said Jerry West has nothing on Kareem Abdul-Jabbar."

"He'll get it," Bozer spoke up when Harper looked rather puzzled at Jack's words. "It's secret code."

"Gotcha." Harper gave a salute and started back towards Mac's room.

"But I got to say you two are totally wrong on this last word thing this time." Bozer jabbered as Riley turned Jack's chair around and headed towards the elevator at a hurried speed as if she was afraid Jack might suddenly change his mind. "I mean if you really wanted to win, why not call out Shaquille O'Neal? Bam. You're done. "

"Don't forget my man, Kobe Bryant," Riley added. "What about Magic Johnson?"

Jack listened as his teammates argued their points on a litany of other Laker players, doing so, he understood, for his benefit. He didn't bother to chime in or to explain that winning was never the point of his and Mac's game. Not really. The point had always been and would always be that they both stuck around to keep playing. He closed his eyes as the elevator car took them to the fourth floor, sending up a quick thank you to anyone listening that once more it seemed they had avoided tallying the final score.

RcJ

Mac awoke with the echo of gunfire still ringing in his ears. He greedily gasped a breath as he tried to blink his surroundings into view, the images from his nightmare still bleeding in and out of his field of vision, deep crimson blood mixing poorly with the stark white walls surrounding him. The image of Nobel aiming his gun at Jack, pulling the trigger to shoot Mac's partner point blank in the head as Jack lay helpless to defend himself was on replay.

"Jack!" Mac could barely lift his head, but quickly realized he was in a hospital bed, the sounds and smell a dead giveaway. It could have easily been the same hospital bed he'd been in when he'd witnessed the final showdown between Jack and Jonas, sans Nobel actually killing Jack, but the glass walls of an ICU ward told him he was somewhere different. His heart hammered against his chest as he tried to convince himself that Jack's brains splattering on the concrete of the rooftop was a horrible fiction conjured by his psyche and not terrible truth.

"Hey." The hand on Mac's arm had him turning his head too quickly, the room spinning with his sudden movement. He heard a groan, realizing it had come from him when Bozer leaned further into his personal space, his eyes wide with worry. "Mac? Can you hear me?"

"Boze?" Mac squeezed his eyes shut, willing the wave of nausea to pass, taking a deep breath. He could feel the cool oxygen from the cannula beneath his nose and was beyond relieved that his hungry lungs didn't seem to need his concentrated effort to actually work now, even though they were still oddly heavy, just like his arms and legs.

"I'm here, Mac." The worry in Bozer's voice had him forcing his eyes open once more, a concern of his own making itself quickly known as another round of images from his most current nightmare flashed through his mind. Jack lifeless an unseeing. Nobel grinning at Mac from the computer screen. He sent a sweeping glance around the room, instantly realizing what was missing, or more importantly, who was missing.

"Where…" He managed before his raw throat had his voice cracking, cutting his question short on a painful cough.

"You're still at the hospital, man." Bozer reached for a cup of ice on the table by Mac's bed. "You just came back from having some scans where they gave you a light sedative. They said you'd be woozy for a while."

Mac shook his head, even as he greedily accepted the spoonful of chips Bozer offered. He swallowed, grateful for the coolness and moisture that would allow him to speak again. "Jack?"

"Where's Jack?" Bozer repeated, looking infuriatingly calm as he offered Mac another spoon of ice. This time Mac kept his lips firmly pressed together in a grimace even as his heart rate kicked into overdrive. He knew Nobel had not put that final bullet in Jack, that Hammond had killed him before he had the chance. Still, the last thing Mac clearly remembered was McGarrett telling him Jack was bleeding out, the bullet he took through his leg having nicked an artery. Worst case scenarios invaded his thoughts, the beep of the monitors picking up cadence right along with his fear.

"Take it easy, Dude," Bozer said, his voice high pitched with his own alarm. "Jack's fine…I mean he's not fine or okay, because I know you two don't use those words. So, Wilt Chamberlain is better than Jerry West. Or maybe it was Magic Johnson trumping Shaquille O'Neal."

"What?" Mac tried to push himself up in the bed, finding he had no strength to even hold his weight on one elbow, let alone make it to sitting, or to his ultimate goal of climbing out of the damn bed. "He's not okay…"

"Who's not okay?" Jack asked as Riley rolled him into the room. His hair looked damp, and Mac caught the scent of soap or shampoo. Most importantly, aside from the wheel chair he was riding in, Jack looked completely whole.

"You." Mac looked from his partner to their computer tech, both of them sporting grins as they came closer to his bed. He sagged against the mattress with visible relief, his eyes burning with tiredness. "Bozer said…you weren't okay."

"What?" Jack kept his smile in place but Mac didn't miss the look his partner shot Bozer. "Apparently my state of well-being has been greatly underestimated."

"Don't be glaring at me." Bozer lifted his hands in exasperation. "You two are the ones who don't used the words 'okay' or 'fine' or 'it's all good' like any normal human beings. What does that leave a guy with when his buddy asks how a guy is doing? It's not my fault, you two have to speak in code so that the other doesn't think the worst, which is some serious messed up psychology if you ask me."

"No one's asking you, man." Jack handed a brown paper bag to Bozer. "Cut your unhelpful commentary and eat your burger." He turned his gaze back to Mac. "How you doing, brother? You look a hell of lot better than you did a couple of hours ago."

"He has no room to talk, Mac." Riley moved from behind the chair, taking a seat on the edge of the hospital bed, squeezing Mac's blanket clad foot gently. "Jack went days without a shower and shave. It took three nurses a hose and some hedge clippers to make him presentable."

"She's exaggerating, as usual," Jack reached over and gripped Mac's wrist. Despite his schooled features Mac could easily see the slight flash of pain that briefly raced over his partner's face. "They should have seen us in the desert after a five day mission with only a pack of baby wipes between us. Compared to those days, I was as fresh as a daisy when they ordered me out of here to clean up."

"I'm trying to eat, here." Bozer mumbled around a mouthful of burger. "Hospital food is bad enough without those images."

Riley snorted. "At least he didn't mention his Speedos."

"How long?" Mac was comforted by the banter of his friends, but hadn't missed the underlying weariness that clung to each of them despite their attempts at normalcy. Jack's eyes were haunted, the lines in his face deepened and more pronounced by an exhaustion he couldn't disguise with humor.

"You were out a few days." Jack's face blanched a bit. He didn't meet Mac's gaze, instead studying one of the machines monitoring Mac's condition as if it held some vital information. "It was touch and go for a while, brother."

"Is that why you're here?" Mac cleared his throat, wincing at the strain. He looked to Riley, who looked to Jack as if she wasn't quite certain of what she should say in fear she reveal too much, too soon. He had expected as much. His memory although littered with missing gaps, was detailed enough that he recalled the terrifying feeling of not being able to breathe, the doctors and nurses scrambling around him as he was no longer able to fight the effects of the toxin. If he was honest with himself, he'd thought it was the end.

"Did you really think I was okay with you guys coming to Hawaii without me?" Riley gestured to Bozer, not willing to admit that everyone else might have thought the same thing as Mac. "I would have never heard the end of him bragging about all the cool things he got to do and see on the island, not to mention Hammond's super spy jet, which I got to ride in by the way." Her eyes brightened when she looked to Mac and he knew her well enough to know she was fighting back tears. "I knew you weren't going to check out on us. In fact, I was so sure I made Jack promise that once you were awake he was going to treat us all to a real vacation, at the Hilton no less. I even packed my bathing suit."

"Is it a pink whole piece with kittens on it?" Bozer asked, working to keep a serious face but his mouth twitched. "Because I was detecting a theme while you were back at your mom's place?"

"I'll guess you'll have to wait and see when Harper takes us out for those surfing lessons he's promised." Mac had no idea who Harper was but if Bozer's gutted look of betrayal was anything to go on, he had a feeling he'd have a chance to hear all about him, as well as his roommates inevitable laments about whatever barely there, more string than material suit Riley would surely choose now.

"How about you two go contact Thornton and let her know Mac's back with us." Jack looked from Bozer to Riley. "I wouldn't mention our vacation plans, unless you want her finding us a convenient mission somewhere nearby while Mac recuperates. Just because I'm temporarily down a leg doesn't mean she won't have me hobbling around some jungle if she even catches a whiff of us even thinking about having fun on the company dime."

"I'll give her the lowdown," Bozer assured, coming alongside Mac to squeeze his shoulder. "I recall Dr. Kamaka saying he wanted to keep a close eye on Mac for at least the next week or so, just to make sure there are no residual effects from the toxin."

"What?" Mac felt a different kind of panic worm its way to the surface. He was ready to be out of the hospital immediately. The idea of staying days to be poked, prodded and monitored was unthinkable.

"Take it easy, brother." Jack's hand had reclaimed his wrist, giving a reassuring squeeze. "I think Bozer's exaggerating for our benefit." His partner turned to Riley. "You talk to, Patty. Keep our timeline vague and whatever you do don't let mister 'I give away too many details and ramble incoherently when I'm hiding something' have the phone."

"You really know how to break a guy's confidence, Jack." Bozer grumbled, rolling his eyes.

"I also know how to break every bone in a guy's body, Bozer." Jack frowned at the younger man. "Now scram before I care to demonstrate how I can do it while temporarily confined to a wheelchair."

"I know how to take a hint," Bozer huffed, giving Mac's shoulder another squeeze before taking his burger and heading for the door.

Riley rolled her eyes at Mac, offering a put upon sigh as she hopped from the bed. "Only if that were true." She pointed to the brown bag in Jack's lap. "Make sure he eats, will you? He's been on a self-imposed hunger strike since you've been out. It's not like I care if he starves or anything," She added, with a narrowed glance in Jack's direction, though a twinkle appeared in her eyes. "But the sooner his doctor gives him the bill of good health the sooner I get to move into the Presidential suite at the Hilton."

"Suite? I didn't agree to a suite," Jack called after her, grumbling something about his retirement under his breath. When he refocused on Mac he gave a shake of his head. "Between you and her I'm pretty sure the rest of my hair is a goner. As much as I love my man Bruce Willis, I'm just not sure I can pull off his bald look."

"Are you really okay?" Mac asked, glancing to the wheelchair and Jack's carefully outstretched leg, noting the loose sweats Jack was wearing, the t-shirt proclaiming him a member of HPD, which was much better than one with allegiance to Navy. "I hate to see what you looked like before I woke up."

"I promise I'm good, although thanks for adding bruises to my ego to match all the other bruises I've got going on other places. Don't you want to know how you're fairing?"

"Bozer said they ran tests." Mac tried to reach for the bed remote but Jack beat him to it, raising the top of the mattress for him. "I'm guessing the fact that I'm awake means Nobel was telling the truth about the antidote." He cleared his throat again, not used to talking yet.

"He was," Jack nodded. "I'm sorry as hell that I didn't…"

"Did you have surgery on your leg?" Mac asked, cutting his partner off before Jack could profess some undeserved guilt on his part.

Jack smirked, shaking his head at the redirect. "The leg wound isn't as bad as the ribs, which hurt like a sonofabitch. I only agreed to this chair to keep my doctor and my new nursemaid, McGarrett, off my back." He rolled his eyes in exaggeration when Mac continued to give him a skeptical regard. "I'll be walking around without a limp in no time, but my chest might take a while to lose all the pretty colors, so stop worry about me and focus on you." Jack hadn't released his grip on Mac's wrist, his fingers tightening marginally as his face grew more serious. Mac's chest tightened almost painfully as he easily read the recent suffering in Jack's dark gaze, noted the slight break in his partner's voice. "You really scared the hell out of me this time, bud. We barely got the antidote in you in time. As it was, you nearly didn't pull out from the nose dive. It was like the mission that should not be named, only worse."

Mac had to agree that the last few days might have even put Cairo to shame. He'd been shot, lost Jack, found Jack, only to watch Jack be blown up in a house and then gunned down by a psychopath, all the while battling a poison that slowly shut down his body to the point of near death. He offered his partner a weary half grin. "At least there were no snakes."

"Always looking at the bright side." Jack laughed, releasing his grip on Mac to sit up straighter. Mac didn't miss the way he guarded his ribs as he did. "Just one of the things I love about you, brother."

"I love you too, you know." Mac's response surprised them both. He couldn't even blame a drugged stupor or a weak moment in his defenses brought on by pain. Except for the faint resounding of an ache in his head and an overall tiredness and residual weakness that reminded Mac of the few times he'd had a really bad case of the flu, he felt normal. It might have been the dream about the gypsum flowers that stirred thoughts of his father and the way his dad had always held back a part of himself after Mac's mother died, guarded against whatever else life might throw his way. Jack, on the opposite end of the spectrum held nothing back, instead often leaving his heart wide open. Mac did not want to make the same mistakes that his old man did, but also accepted that he was not nor never would he be as free with his feelings as Jack.

"Look, I'm still pissed at you for leaving LA without me, and that you didn't tell me about the missions for the Army," Mac continued on before he lost his nerve and reverted to his more reserved, introspective nature. James MacGyver had possessed the same reset, a fact that was never been driven home more to Mac than the day when he finally found his small son, wet, cold and frightened in the Cave of the Winds and could do nothing but point out the faulty logic in Mac's plan to find the cavern on his own, even going so far as to emphasize the turns he'd missed on the map.

Mac coughed, his voice growing rougher as Jack continued to stare at him as if might have incurred some kind of brain damage from his short amount of time without oxygen. "Not to mention every stunt you've pulled here in Hawaii to keep me out of harm's way knowing that I can handle whatever situation I find myself in, because instead of being a kid, I'm actually a seasoned agent; but I know everything you did was because you wanted to protect me."

"Mac…" Jack seemed to have recovered from his initial shock and attempted to intervene, but Mac lifted a hand to cut him off.

"As much as it drives me crazy sometimes, and let's be clear that it does drive me crazy, I know that's who you are, and that what you do, you do out of love. I'm lucky to have you, Jack. Really lucky." Mac wasn't about to add that realizing the sacrifices Jack had made might have even made him love the big jerk even more. After all, he didn't want to encourage his partner's tendency for self sacrifice.

"I knew it." Jack's dazed smile quickly morphed into a familiar cocky grin telling Mac he'd made the right call. He wanted there to be no more misunderstandings between them. "Even after all that's gone down, all the bad shit you've found out, you'd still share your French fries with me and not even ask for any of mine in return."

"What does that even mean?" Mac frowned, not following. Maybe Jack was the one who had suffered some sort of brain trauma.

"It means love makes a man do mighty crazy things, brother."

"If you mean like a guy letting a crazy person shoot him in the chest at point blank range, not once, but twice, then yes, I would have to say love makes YOU do really crazy things, Jack." Mac couldn't help pointing out Jack's own blunder with logic. He was after all, despite Jack's years of influence, his father's son.

"Hell, bud, I thought we settled the whole 'I would do just about anything for you' a long time ago. I don't look at it as being crazy as much as I consider it protecting and maintaining an investment." Jack grinned, his gaze meeting Mac's. "My payout's been way better than I expected or deserved."

Mac cleared his throat again. "There's not a lot I wouldn't do to maintain my investment in you either, Big Guy."

"Really?" Jack leaned forward a little, a mischievous glint in his dark eyes. "Because forget surfing with Harper, I have always wanted to ride horses on the beach."

"Except for that." Mac arched a brow at his best friend, his fingers unconsciously messing with the tape of the IV. "What are you a teenage girl?"

"If you want something a little more macho, then how about Cliff diving?" Jack suggested, sitting back in his chair to open the brown bag he was holding. He pulled out a sandwich wrapped in greasy parchment paper and arranged it on his lap. "I hear it's the ultimate rush."

"As if we haven't had an adrenaline fueled adventure already." Mac shook his head, relaxing further back into the pillow. "Just no."

"Hula lessons then?" Jack grinned around his first big bite of BLT, bobbing his eyebrows.

"Absolutely not." Mac said firmly. There would be no grass skirts in his near future. Maybe brotherly bonds did have its limits.

"We could try puffer fish?" Jack interrupted, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I bet they have it at that fancy restaurant Riley wants to go to."

"That's it." Mac groaned, gesturing to the brown bag, the suggestion they willingly consume a well-known toxin stealing the last of his patience. "Are there fries in there?"

"Maybe," Jack hedged, suddenly looking uncertain.

"Hand them over." Mac reached his hand out, cursing how heavy the limb still felt, Jack begrudgingly giving up the brown bag. He smirked at his pouting partner. "Forget love, if you'll revert to our original vacation plan of some relaxing down time on the beach, then, maybe I'll share."

"But…" Jack started. Mac raised a brow, giving a little shake to the bag. Smells of greasy golden goodness wafted about. Jack sighed. "Fine. Be boring."

"As if." Mac snorted, shaking his head at his partner-his brother. "We are a lot of things, Jack, but we are never, ever boring."

Until the next adventure…The End