Not by blood, but by fire and water

Chapter 8

He was still shaking with anger when Sinclair spoke.

"Don't tell me you are ready to end all your partners suffering already, we just got started," Sinclair said disappointedly. Mac spared a glance at his friend briefly then, dropping his gaze to the hard cement floor, he gently shook his head from side to side. "I didn't think so," Sinclair responded smugly.

His ears were ringing and the muscles around the knife wound on his side were twitching involuntarily. 'This is just as fun as I remembered it being', Jack thought, blinking to clear his somewhat blurry vision. He cast a glance sideways to his partner, Mac's head was down with his eyes squeezed shut. Guilt hit Jack, like a punch in the gut. He knew this was tearing the kid up, but he couldn't hold back that last scream that had escaped his defenses, he had to do better.

"Let's get back to it, shall we." Sinclair stated looking all too pleased at the idea.

With his head down, Mac tried desperately to tune out the pained moans and sizzling zaps his best friend was enduring just inches away from him. It wasn't possible. With his eyes closed his hearing seemed to be more amplified. He heard Jack's panting breaths coming faster and more labored. Even more worry for his partner building he looked to Jack, searching for clues to his overall health. Beads of water dripped from his friends short hair, his face was flushed, his skin too pale, and now he had several red blistered burn marks forming across his torso.

After a hit to a particularly sensitive area on his ribs Jack couldn't hold back his shout of pain, his voice cracked halfway through and it turned barely audible.

Mac glared daggers at the arms dealer. "Would you like a taste?" Sinclair said suddenly pointing the picana in Mac's direction.

'NO! Not the kid, please!' Jack screamed in his head. Not waiting for a reply their captor touched the end of the picana to Mac's side. The kid's scream physically hurt Jack to hear. He hit the younger agent again this time in the neck. Mac's teeth came together with an audible click then his head dropped to his chest.

Jack's heart flip flopped. 'Please don't be dead', he plead silently.

He watched his friend intently, praying for a sign of life. Macs chest rose slightly with a shallow breath and relief flooded Jack's soul, he's breathing, thank God!

"How 'bout you picana someone your own size." Jack said, forcing a smile and a chuckle he didn't feel.

"You are a very difficult, how do they say it, pain in the ass Mr. Dalton." Sinclair spat. "I'm shocked you would even suggest such a thing." Jack retorted, genuinely laughing this time.

Sinclair seemed frustrated, tired even. Jack smirked at the small victory, he held his captors stare in challenge. Sinclair may hold all the cards, but he couldn't control Jack's strong and stubborn will. He was never going to break and give up, that would go against every fiber of his being. Their captor's slip of confidence allowed a sliver of hope to take hold within the older agent, tired pissed off bad guys made mistakes and he was going to push this guy's buttons until he made one.

As he flexed his grip on the handle of the torture device, Sinclair eyed the infected knife wound on Jack's shoulder and grinned menacingly before jabbing the end into the already inflamed wound and held it there. The agent's scream erupted immediately, his voice clear with agony.

There was no holding back this time and he was grateful the kid was passed out. White hot fire engulfed his shoulder and spread up his neck and face. He looked down at his shoulder and was surprised to find he wasn't actually on fire. His vision started to darken at the edges and he welcomed the release from agony that oblivion promised.

Sinclair watched as the agent's head lolled to a stop with satisfaction. It had been two long days for the arms dealer and these two were proving to be more difficult than he had expected. He felt his control slipping, which in turn was fueling the fury building deep inside. The man in front of him had been pushing his buttons since their first meeting, and he looked forward to finishing off the older agent. He only needed one of them alive anyway, but right now he was going to rest, these two weren't going anywhere.

Mac came to first, how long had he been out? It felt like several hours. He was certain his mouth was more dry than the Sahara, what he wouldn't give for a glass of water. He heard his partner's shallow raspy breaths and looked over at him. Jack was not looking too good. His breathing sounded awful and his skin was too pale, judging by the glistening dark stain on his friends slightly faded black jeans, his pallor was due to blood loss.

Mac slid his chair as close as he could get to Jack, then stretched his fingers out to touch the former Delta's arm. The fever was worse, he discovered with a sigh. Jack wasn't going to make it much longer and that realization had him on the verge of panic.

"Mmc" Jack mumbled softly. Mac winced in sympathy, The older man was dreaming about him and Jack had his worst nightmares when he had a high fever.

"Jack", Mac tried to wake his friend from the torment of his unconsciousness. He squeezed Jack's arm the best he could manage and repeated his plea. "Jack, come on man, I need you with me."

"Mmm", the older man groaned. "Jack, hey big guy, ya with me?"

"Mmac" Jack slurred.

"You look like shit, man." Mac stated unapologetically.

Jack squinted an eye open to look at his friend and groaned, "I feel like it too, kid."

"This isn't all just a bad dream, is it?" Jack asked hopefully.

"No, sorry buddy. It's all real."

"I was afraid of that."

To be continued...