Here it is, the final chapter! Nothing but fluff and bromance, so fingers crossed you like that as much as I do. I hope you've all enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it, and thank you so much for all of the encouraging feedback! -abby

Scarcely four hours later Mac drifted awake. It took a minute to recognize his surroundings in the nearly pitch blackness. Once he realized where he was, he lay still for a long time just staring, unfocused, at the dark ceiling. He only vaguely recalled the previous evening, and things were especially hazy after dinner. Mac knew that Jack must have been responsible for getting him into bed at some point, and it frustrated him that he couldn't remember.

He closed his eyes, trying hard to ignore the discomfort radiating throughout his entire body. Mac knew he needed to rest and he felt exhausted, but couldn't seem to fall back to sleep. The initial few days of unconsciousness aside, he had hardly slept in the hospital, and had hoped that things would improve at home in a familiar bed. Apparently not.

Mac shifted painfully, trying to find a more comfortable position. With some effort, he rolled from his back onto his uninjured right side, biting his lip and breathing through his swollen nose in an attempt to control the pain. It must be time for more drugs, he thought. Jack had been relentless about his pain meds, and although it was annoying Mac did appreciate his friend's diligence. He glanced at the clock. 2:04 am. Definitely time for another round, Mac thought wearily. Ow.

He wasn't about to wake Jack, who - after a protracted argument earlier in the day - had finally agreed to sleep in the guest room rather than on the floor by Mac's bed. Mac knew his partner needed to get a decent night of sleep too, probably even more than he did, since at the hospital Jack hadn't had the dubious advantage of morphine or even a flat sleeping surface.

Finally Mac gave up. He sighed, shoving back the covers and turning on the bedside lamp. He shivered in the cool night air, wincing as the movement jarred his tender ribs. His hoodie lay on the nightstand, no doubt placed there by Jack, and Mac shrugged it on as he slowly levered himself into a sitting position.

His crutches leaned against the wall and Mac reached for them, but it took a long moment for him to find the energy to try and stand. Every injury throbbed in time with his heart as he arranged the crutches and shakily managed to push to his feet. Once he had his balance Mac carefully made his way toward the kitchen, the last place he'd seen the bottle of meds. He tried to move quietly so that he didn't wake Jack, and it was slow going. He paused outside the guest room to catch his breath.

Suddenly he realized there was a muffled voice coming from inside. The door was ajar, so Mac leaned forward on his crutches and pushed it slightly inward. "Jack?" he queried softly, hobbling a few steps further into the room. "Jack, you okay?"

"No, please. No." Jack was thrashing wildly, tangled in the sheets and clearly caught in the throes of an intense nightmare. "Look out! Mac! Don't do it, Mac. Please!"

MacGyver moved closer and leaned the crutches at the foot of the bed as he painfully eased down to sit alongside his friend. Jack continued jerking and talking, and Mac pondered his options. It was usually a bad idea to physically awaken anyone from such a deep sleep, but especially someone with Jack's training and reflexes. Mac knew he wasn't in any shape to block a punch, no matter how unintentional.

"Stop! Mac!" Jack's shouts were escalating in volume.

"Jack," Mac carefully avoided touching his friend. "Jack. Listen. I'm right here." He raised his voice a little. "Jack. Jack. Listen to me. It's Mac. I'm here, man."

When there was no response except for another distraught-sounding plea, Mac decided to take a risk and hoped he wouldn't painfully regret it. In one smooth movement he clasped Jack's right hand tightly in his own, thumb to thumb, and gripped Jack's shoulder with his left. "Jack," he said firmly, ignoring the flash of pain in his side. "Time to wake up."

The gamble paid off. As Mac had expected, Jack finally awakened with a sudden jerk. Thankfully he didn't come up swinging, but his flailing knocked Mac's crutches to the floor with a crash and he startled at the sound. "Mac?" he gasped. "You all right? What's goin' on?" He sat up on his elbows, squeezing the hand in his with a groggy, puzzled look on his face. "What're you doin' in here?"

Mac smiled thoughtfully and decided to play the long game. He knew it would be easier to get Jack talking if he softened the older man up a little first. "Couldn't sleep. Needed another round of meds, but didn't quite make it that far." He let go of Jack and gestured to his fallen crutches. "Think you can give me a hand?"

"You got it, brother." Without hesitation, Jack rolled out of bed on the opposite side and scooped up the crutches. "Here you go, partner. Careful," he advised, hooking one arm under Mac's and virtually lifting the other man upright. "Okay?"

"Yeah," Mac replied with a nod. He was hurting, misery thrumming through his body from his head to his toes, but he pushed it aside. He was more worried about Jack. MacGyver led the way to the kitchen with some difficulty, and he gratefully accepted his friend's assistance to sit down at the table.

Jack grabbed the bottle of prescription pills from the counter and tapped a few into his palm. "Here, bud," he offered them to Mac with a glass of water. "You look beat." Mac's color was still a few shades paler than normal, and in the dim lighting the bruising under his eyes stood out vividly.

Mac drained the glass as he swallowed the meds. "Haven't been sleeping too well," he reminded Jack. "Like someone else I know."

A brief expression of guilt flitted across Jack's face before he put on his most charming smile. "I'm sleepin' fine, brother. Don't know what you're talking about."

"Jack." Mac leveled his partner with a knowing look. "If I were having nightmares you'd insist I talk about it." He paused. "You were yelling my name."

Jack blew out a heavy breath and scrubbed his hands over his face. He sat down across the table and stared up at the ceiling as if he'd find some answers there. After a few moments he finally spoke. "You scared the hell out of me when you fell off that building," Jack admitted. "I mean, the chances anyone would survive a fall like that…" He trailed off.

"I know. But I didn't die, Jack. I'm alive, and I'm going to be fine." Mac shifted on the seat and flinched at the resulting twinge from his hip. He saw Jack tense and put a hand up to forestall the question. "It's okay. The pills are kicking in," he assured the older man.

"You should lie down," Jack said automatically.

"Probably, but don't change the subject," Mac shot back. "We were talking about you, remember?"

"I've had nightmares before, bud. You know that." Jack looked down at his hands.

"I do," Mac confirmed. "I've had plenty of them myself." He knew Jack wasn't done, so he simply sat quietly as the other man gathered his thoughts.

"I just...this was the first time I thought it was really over. Honestly, bud. I thought you were dead when you hit the ground. It scared me so bad." Jack shrugged, looking away. "Guess I'm having a hard time dealin' with the idea that I can't always protect you." He snorted mirthlessly and met MacGyver's eyes. "That's my one job in this outfit, you know? Fight off the bad guys so you can do your thing. I failed at it miserably this time, brother. I failed, and you nearly died."

Mac reached out and squeezed his friend's arm gently. "Jack, I am not your "one job". You didn't fail at anything. We're partners, remember? We're supposed to watch each other's backs. It's not a one-way street." He grinned. "And I don't always make it easy on you. Remember how you told me I better not go into that warehouse alone?"

Jack chuckled in spite of himself. "That is true, I did say that. Wait, you remember I said that?" Thanks to the concussion, Mac's memories of the hours leading up to the fall were still spotty at best. He hadn't been able to recall much past their arrival in London.

"Actually, no." Mac admitted with a smile. "But I know you." Encouraged by his friend's faint smile, he continued, "There wasn't anything you could have done to prevent this, Jack. If I'd listened to you maybe it wouldn't have happened, but either way - I'm going to be okay." He looked Jack straight in the eye as he added somberly, "And it won't happen again."

"You promise? Because I don't think my heart can take this kind of stress," Jack pointed out.

Mac braced a hand firmly against his left side as he laughed. "I know, old man," he teased affectionately. "And I do promise to never get thrown off a building again. Because it really sucks."

"I thought you were promising to not ignore me!" Jack protested.

Mac shook his head with a grin. "I don't make promises I don't intend to keep."

Jack cracked up. "You're incorrigible."

"I learned from the best," Mac replied cheerfully.

After a minute the two men sobered. "I mean it, Jack. You've always been there for me. This time was no different," Mac said earnestly.

Jack shrugged, but didn't reply.

"I'm absolutely serious. There's no one I'd trust more to watch my back. You know that."

"Yeah," Jack finally relented. "I know. I'm just so sorry you got hurt, brother."

"Me too," Mac agreed, "but like I said, it isn't your fault and I'm going to be good as new. Eventually." He regarded his friend pensively. "What about you?"

Jack took a deep breath, clapping his hands against his thighs as he stood. "I'm good," he said decisively, and Mac actually believed him. The older man squeezed Mac's shoulder gently. "Now let's get you back to bed before you fall asleep right here."

Mac suddenly realized he was swaying in the chair, no doubt thanks to the combination of pain pills and the late hour. He squinted at the clock. 3:07 am. No wonder. "The couch is closer," he suggested, counting on Jack to follow suit.

Sure enough, once Jack had helped his friend get settled in the den, he flopped on the other sofa. "I think I'll just rest here in case you need anything," he said casually.

Mac nodded, closing his eyes. After a few minutes he started to drift, but didn't let himself doze. Even with his eyes closed Mac could feel Jack studying him intently, and fought the encroaching exhaustion to silently wait. He deliberately slowed his breathing in the hopes that once Jack thought he was out, the older man would finally unwind enough to get some decent rest.

Jack watched MacGyver for a long time, relieved to see that the injured man looked relatively comfortable. He sighed heavily. Jack had been so worried about his partner for days that he'd hardly had a chance to come down off the initial adrenaline rush, but it seemed that somehow their talk had done the trick. He could feel himself crashing and his eyelids grew impossibly heavy.

He really had planned to stay awake for a while in case Mac needed him, but Jack quickly realized that was a losing battle. Reluctantly, he relaxed into the thick cushions and allowed his eyes to close. Comforted by the sound of Mac's congested breaths, despite his best intentions Jack soon fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. And after a few minutes, for the first time in over a week, he started to snore.

Across the room, MacGyver smiled in satisfaction. Mission accomplished.