Hello! I'm enjoying this particular fandom so much lately that I decided to try my hand at a multi-chapter fic. No spoilers or direct relation to any episode. Just good old fashioned Mac whump and bromance between our two favorite secret agents. I don't own them, alas. I hope you enjoy! -abby

"'S okay, mm okay," Mac's slurred reassurances may have held more weight if his pallor hadn't resembled that of a ghost.

And if he hadn't just fallen off a building.

"Sure you are, brother. But just humor me and don't move." Jack replied in a voice stretched thin by stress. Mere seconds before, he'd watched with horror as Mac fought with their suspected bomber, a huge man easily outweighing the young agent by at least 200 pounds. Jack, from his location outside, had been too far away to do much but yell as the two men grappled on the ledge of an abandoned warehouse. Then his heart had leapt into his throat as they fell in what seemed to be appallingly slow motion before hitting the ground - more than three stories below - with a sickening crunch.

Oh god. Oh my god. Please be alive. Please. Jack ran faster than he ever had in his life and dropped to his knees by his partner's prone farm.

The suspect was clearly dead, having taken the brunt of the fall. A pool of blood spread rapidly around the man's head, and Jack hoped fervently that MacGyver had somehow landed on top of his substantial bulk.

Mac had been thrown clear upon impact and lay on his left side a few feet away, eyes closed, arms and legs akimbo, lax fingertips just inside the spreading pool of gore. Blood trickled from both his nose and mouth and he was frighteningly still. Mac's never still. Jack hesitated for the briefest of seconds before reaching a shaking hand over to check for a pulse. He has to be alive. He has to be, Jack thought. The alternative was unimaginable.

But before Jack could even touch his friend, Mac gasped. Blue eyes fluttered then opened wide, and a low groan escaped the young man's throat.

"Mac? Buddy? You with me?" Jack placed a gentle hand on the side of Mac's face. He could see the effort it took just for the injured man to keep his eyes open, which is why Jack wasn't even close to buying the reflexive, garbled attempts at reassurance.

"Mmmm," Mac moaned quietly, his eyelids flickering before falling shut once more.

"You took a pretty bad fall, pal." Understatement of the century, Jack thought. "Don't move, okay? I'm going to call for help." Jack pulled out his phone, but kept his other hand on Mac's cheek. He brushed a blood-matted lock of hair out of his friend's eyelashes as he waited for the seemingly interminable satellite connection to Riley. Come on, hurry up!

She answered on the first ring. "Jack? What's going on? I just lost Mac's cell signal. You guys okay?"

"He must've landed on his phone," Jack replied absently, his attention divided between the young woman and his injured partner. "We need an ambulance, Ri. Mac's hurt pretty bad." Mac groaned again and started to shift under his hand. "Mac? Shh," he soothed. "Hang in there. Help's coming. Don't move, buddy." Mac pulled in a shuddering breath and stilled.

"Jack?" Riley's slim fingers flew over her keyboard some 5000 miles away, easily dispatching an ambulance to the location of Jack's phone. "Jack, answer me. King's Cross hospital is less than six miles from you. An ambulance is on the way, but what happened? Jack? Jack!"

The older agent was only half-listening to the escalating panic in Riley's tone. He pressed his fingers into Mac's neck, searching desperately for a pulse. What he found was worryingly fast and thready. "It's bad, Ri. He fell," Jack said simply. Riley's concern jumped several notches at both the cryptic answer and the obvious strain in Jack's voice. "Just...just tell Matty. I'll call you from the hospital." Jack ended the call over Riley's anxious protests and shoved the phone back in his pocket.

"Mac? Brother? Do you hear me?" Jack swept his fingers gently through the young man's hair. Mac's shallow breathing had sped up until he was almost panting as he tried desperately to keep the pain in check. His entire body was screaming in agony, particularly along his left rib cage. Nerve endings lit up as though on fire. His head pounded mercilessly, along with everything else, and he knew that something was broken inside. A small whimper slipped through Mac's tight controls and he felt Jack grab his fingers in response. "...h-hurts," he slurred weakly.

Jack's heart skipped a beat at the admission. Oh, kid. You fell off a building. My god. "I know. I know, bud. But you're going to be fine. Try to slow your breathing, okay?" He breathed in and out slowly to demonstrate. Mac's bloodshot eyes opened again as he tried to follow suit. "Good, that's good, buddy. In and out, nice and easy," Jack said encouragingly, despite the fear that pulled a tight knot in his belly.

He skimmed cautious hands over his friend's broken body, and a sharp intake of breath told Jack that there were more than a few busted ribs along one side. Mac's neck and spine both seemed intact - thank god - but Jack knew better than to try and move him to a more comfortable position. Dark bruising was already blossoming along Mac's jawline and under both eyes. Blood continued dripping from his swelling nose and the side of his mouth, and Jack gently wiped it away with his own shirttail. He went back to gripping Mac's hand firmly, careful not to squeeze too hard. Jack could hear sirens approaching, and he breathed a small sigh of relief. "You hang in there, brother. Stay with me. Help is almost here."

Mac didn't have it in him to reply. It was taking all of his energy just to stay awake. He suddenly felt very cold, and some distant part of his brain acknowledged that he was going into shock. It was a strange sensation, but he didn't have the chance to dwell. Just then an ambulance screeched into the alley and stopped a few yards away, as two City of London police cars pulled in from the other direction.

The paramedic team immediately started assessing their patient as they listened to Jack's quick sitrep. Within moments they had Mac safely rolled from his side and strapped to a backboard, with a cervical collar around his neck and oxygen mask over his face.

"He's stable," one of the paramedics said to Jack. "You coming?"

"Absolutely." Jack snagged the nearest uniformed officer. "Hey, I'm going with my partner. I'll be at the hospital, or you can contact Matty Weber at the Phoenix Foundation." He barely waited for the constable's nod before jumping into the back of the waiting ambulance.

"Jack?" MacGyver's voice was shaky and hardly more than a whisper. His arms were restrained by the gurney's straps but trembling fingers stretched out, blindly searching for his friend. Mac couldn't move his head, couldn't see anything but the overhead lights, could hardly hear anything over the thundering in his skull. "Jack?"

"I'm here, buddy. Right here." Jack again clasped the ice cold fingers in his own, and felt the young man relax fractionally. He leaned forward into Mac's line of vision. "I gotcha, okay?"

Mac closed his eyes, finally surrendering to the blissful pull of unconsciousness.