Mac didn't know what they'd injected him with. Tied to a chair, left to anxiously question his own spiralling physical state as he had nothing else to fixate on. He'd tried to think things through, formulate a plan, but it felt like swimming through quicksand and all he could figure was it couldn't be just one drug. He didn't know how to escape. Couldn't think through the pain. The sound of his own breathing, rate increasingly rapid, reverberated through his skull. He felt useless and powerless and nothing was coming to him at all. It dawned on him that, this time, he wasn't going to be able to think his way out of this thing. Maybe this was what everyone kept warning him about. Maybe he really couldn't improvise forever.

There were bright flashes and screams and yelling and loud bangs. The acrid smell of smoke filtered in and made him gag and cough. And it all blurred together in an overwhelming cacophony of senses that couldn't be separated; that made even his teeth ache. He longed to rock and cover his ears, but the ropes held him fast from even that comfort.

Mac wasn't sure how he got away. . . how they got away, because Jack had suddenly been there, squatting down in front of him, worry and fear written in every line of his expression. "Mac. Mac! You with me, kid?"

He'd tried to formulate words that would ease Jack's concern, but it was all too hard. Jack was there now and, with that fact the only solid thing he had to cling to, Mac let the world slip into darkness.

The next time Mac was aware of anything, the world was moving and someone must have turned the heating to high because he was burning up. He didn't think he'd ever felt this hot. Distantly, he felt himself shaking and vibrating, the sound of an engine giving him some solid information that even his fuzzy mind could comprehend. He was seated, but no longer tied to a chair. He heard someone whimper, the sound coming to a pause when he took a breath, and he recognised the sound must be his own.

"Mac?" The vehicle slowed and came to an abrupt halt as a seatbelt clicked and calloused hands carefully came to rest on his face and neck, pushed through sweaty hair and tapped at his cheek. "You with me, mac?"

Mac groaned as he tried to direct his brain to the usually simple task of making his own mouth work. "Jack?" The sound took effort to move through a dry throat and across a sandpaper tongue. The question inherent in the word was bigger than he knew how to express.

"Yeah, it's me. Now, open your eyes."

Mac would've preferred to just fall back into the blackness where things hurt a lot less, but Jack's voice sounded desperate and wrong, and so he tried to comply. He tried to move his head, felt the hands helping him when his neck seemed unable to carry the weight. Pulling himself further into consciousness was a struggle, but he somehow got his eyes to cooperate. Through slitted eyelids he could see Jack; Jack's eyes welling up with fatigue and relief as they took each other in.

Mac let his eyes roam a little. He was seated in a cabin of what was probably a truck. Dirty windows revealing a tree-lined dirt road and quickly darkening sky.

"Hey Jack." Mac's voice was still a raspy whisper, but the words came more easily this time. He focused back on his overwatch, noting as he did that Jack's hands were on his shoulders now, keeping him steady. "You okay?"

Jack rolled his eyes, a real smile cracking his face wide now. "Yeah kid, I'm much better than you. I don't know what they dosed you with, but it sure did a number on you." Jack paused for a moment as various emotions chased across his face, when he spoke again his voice was choked and rasped a little. "I'm sorry I was so late, Mac. We lost the GPS signal and I couldn't find you, and . . ."

Mac swallowed, painfully aware of how his dry throat constricted at the idea of causing Jack so much worry. He coughed as he tried to speak and nothing came out.

"Hey hey, slowly, here."

A bottle of water appeared and Jack pressed it to Mac's lips, the cool water a sweet relief. When Mac could speak again, he did. "Not your fault, Jack. You saved me like you always do. You saved me and that's all that matters."

Jack swallowed, and nodded. "That's my job, kid," he muttered. "Should've done it better though. I shouldn't have lost you in the first place."

Jack helped Mac sit more comfortably, careful hands easing him into a less slumped position and helping him to lean on something soft now stuffed against the window.

"We've got about another forty-five-minute drive to get to exfil. Just rest, Mac. We'll be home soon."

Mac still wasn't quite sure how they escaped, things were still too fuzzy and his body still shook and ached and felt overly hot. But Jack was there and that was all Mac needed to know. A warm hand continued to rest on his shoulder, even as the truck's engine started up and the rumble and bump of the road sent him back, this time, into a welcome darkness. He was safe.