"Want to rest for a while?" Roger asked when Brendan was done.
Carson shook his head. "We better head back. I'm surprised the rain has held this long."
"Yeah," Jackie agreed. "Someone's definitely watching out for us."
"That's a first," Carson said with a laugh. "I'm starting to get paranoid. I haven't had a break since arriving in Jawara."
Jarod chuckled, before sobering, his eyes falling on Jack. "You think Jack'll behave?"
Carson looked grimly at Jack. "Your guess is as good as mine. Hopefully, he'll keep calm. You brought the two jeeps, right?"
"Yeah. They're not far; just behind those trees," Jackie replied, gesturing to the way they had come.
Carson looked up at the rocky wall behind them. "We left a fire burning in one of the caves."
Jarod squeezed Carson's good shoulder lightly. "I'll take care of it."
Minutes later they were on their way back to the jeeps and civilization. Carson could tell the others were keeping an eye on both him and Jack. He wanted to tell them he was doing okay, but he couldn't find the strength. For one thing it was a lie; he was on the verge of collapse. On the other, he was almost mad with worry. Jack was following behind Carson with single-minded intensity, although there was no life or expression in the man's face. Nor did he show the slightest sign of improvement.
"I'm surprised he didn't get violent with you," Roger said, softly.
Carson flashed back to the cave, remembering Jack's weight on his back, waiting for the pain of an unprepared penetration.
"He did," Carson confessed softly. "There was a moment in the cave when he went a little crazy. Somehow he stopped before he did any real damage."
"You know why?"
Carson shook his head. "No. I'd like to think that is was because he knew it was me on some level. Because he sensed my... uneasiness. Whatever the cause, I'm just glad he didn't hurt me."
The conversation lulled after that; it was taking all of Carson's perseverance to keep moving, knowing they had to hurry if they wanted to escape the rainstorm.
They weren't that lucky. The jeeps were barely in sight when the first fat drops of rain began to fall, gently at first, but quickly gaining momentum. By the time they made it to the vehicles they were all soaked to the bone.
Carson felt as each drop was a needle sticking into his skin. He was unaware of stopping, unaware of closing his eyes. He swayed to the wind for a timeless moment, then finally crumbled to the ground, his strength at its end.
# # #
He was mildly surprised to realize he was waking up to warmth and quiet, instead of the expected numbing cold of the wet jungle. There was a painful twinge in his shoulder, but not the agony of before, and he felt rested and stronger. All in all, things seemed to have taken a turn for the better.
Carson opened his eyes, smiling slightly as he saw Vivian sitting on a chair by the bed, Jarod on the other side. Jackie and Roger were talking quietly by the window, while Brendan was leaning against the wall, reading a book. The events from the last--day?--came to him and he gasped. Jack. Where was Jack?
"Guys?" he called out urgently, when he noticed there was an empty bed in the room but no Jack. "Where's Jack?"
Vivian looked at him with an uneasy smile. "Hey, Carson. Glad to see you awake. You've been out of it for almost twelve hours. Kit sends her love, by the way. She's watching the bar, but she'll be by later on."
Carson took a few sips of the water provided by Jarod, his eyes never leaving Vivian. "You didn't answer my question," he insisted. "Where's Jack?"
It was Roger who answered. "Next door."
"Why aren't we sharing a room? That bed's empty. What aren't you telling me?" Carson asked as he tried to get out of bed, a sense of dread taking over his heart.
"The doctors thought it was best to keep him alone in a room," Brendan replied, preventing him from moving. "After you passed out Jack went nuts again, wouldn't let us touch you. It took me, Jarod and Roger sitting down on him for Viv to sedate him. When he woke up a few hours ago he nearly strangled a doctor."
Carson slumped back into his pillow, blurry eyes focusing on the ceiling. "No change, then."
"No," Brendan said. "I've been reading Levit's journal, the bastard who made the drug, but so far there's not much info. No antidote, no way of knowing what kind of damage the drug has done, if it's permanent, nothing. The doctors aren't willing to give him anything because they're afraid it might react with whatever he was given."
"And your friends?" Carson asked anxiously. "The ones you said might be able to help?"
"I sent them copies of the journal. They're working on it, but it might take time, Carson."
A loud scream had Carson sitting up on the bed. "My God," he whispered. "What is that?"
"It's Jack," Jarod told him grimly. "The doctors had him restrained. He's been out of his mind ever since."
"What?" Carson shouted, refusing to believe his ears. "And you let them?" He threw the bedding aside. "Where the hell are my pants?"
"Carson--" Jackie began.
He glared at her. "I want my pants. Now!"
Brendan handed him a clean pair of jeans and a t-shirt, which from their size, were once again from Roger's closet, and Carson donned them rapidly, ignoring the increasing discomfort his wound was causing.
He rushed out of the room, following the hoarse shouts to Jack's room. He stopped in his tracks at the sight before him. Jack was bound to the bed by his wrists and ankles, snarling and shouting wordlessly as he writhed on the sheets. Two male nurses were trying to calm him down without success.
"Keep these animals away from Jack and me," Carson snapped angrily to the others as the two nurses tried to intercept him. He was just furious enough to forget his injury and punch one of those bastards for what they were doing to Jack. He rushed to Jack's side, brushing a hand over his hair gently. "It's okay, Jack, it's me, Carson. Calm down, I'm here now. It's okay."
His soothing litany seemed to break through Jack's agitation. The hoarse shouts turned to whimpers before he became silent, no longer fighting the restraints. Carson freed Jack's ankles, hearing Roger and Jarod arguing with the nurses in the background, not caring what happened as long as no one stood in his way. When Jack's wrists were released from the leather bindings, Jack jumped from the bed, throwing himself at Carson and knocking both of them to the floor.
Carson sat up and crawled back until he was leaning against the wall, his arms full with the warmth of his lover. He parted his legs, letting Jack settle between them, shuddering as the other man nuzzled his neck.
"Rest," Jack rumbled.
"Yes, rest," Carson choked out, rubbing his cheek tenderly on the blond hair, feeling Jack snuggling closer. "God, Jack, what the hell am I going to do with you?" he murmured, heartbroken.
He felt helpless, and he hated it with a passion. Doing nothing didn't sit well with him, not when it meant Jack's well-being, his life. But there was little he could do right now, except care for Jack, make sure he was okay. Making Jack better was in the hands of others, and he didn't like that either. But he fully intended to badger and fight whoever he had to until he got results. He would never give up, not while there was a shred of hope.
He became aware of the heavy silence in the room and looked up. The male nurses were gone, leaving the others behind, watching him and Jack with expressions which ranged from surprised to tearful. He gestured for them to come closer, Jack's quiet breathing letting him know he was sleeping peacefully.
The others sat in a semicircle, making a protective barrier between the two of them and the door.
"He spoke," Jackie finally said, her voice hushed, her eyes bright with unshed tears.
"Yeah. He did it twice before when we were alone," Carson said absently, fingers running lightly over Jack's hair.
"What did he say?"
"When the guard shot me, he carried me away and said 'protect'. Later in the cave..." he hesitated, unsure if he should let the others
know what had happened at the cave.
"Yeah?" Roger prompted softly.
"He said 'mate'," Carson said, deciding to share at least some details. These were his friends, his family, in a way, and he knew he could trust them. And he had discovered it felt good to have someone to talk to, to help put things into perspective, or just to listen.
Vivian blinked. "Mate? As in... mating?"
Carson nodded, watching as the others analyzed what they had been told. "Before you ask, he didn't hurt me."
"Because you stopped it," Roger guessed shrewdly.
Carson gave him a lopsided smile. "Yes."
"What did you do?" Brendan asked.
Carson flushed. "You sure you want that much details?"
"We want to make sure you're okay," Roger countered.
Carson smiled. "I'm fine. And nothing bad happened, guys. And even if it had..." He looked down at the man in his arms. "It wouldn't have been his fault."
"You know, Carson," Vivian said. "I think you're right. Under all that anger and the apathy, this is still Jack. And somehow, even drugged to his eyeballs, he knows you."
Carson looked at the blond head resting comfortably on his good shoulder. "Yeah. That would certainly explain a lot."
He closed his eyes, the pain in his shoulder making itself known again, now that the worst of the situation was over. He knew he should probably get up before the pain got worse, before his friends were forced to carry him to bed. But he was too tired and too depressed to care. He just wanted to be close to Jack, a little while longer.
# # #
"Carson?"
Carson closed his eyes at the sound of Roger's voice, knowing what was coming. Five days had gone by since both Carson and Jack had been admitted to the hospital, and even though Carson had been released within twenty-four hours of his arrival--the shoulder wound not serious enough to warrant a longer stay--he had remained steadily at Jack's side.
The others kept badgering Carson to eat, sleep, to go out into the sun and breathe some fresh air. While he appreciated their efforts to care for him, he wished they would back off a little. He just didn't have the strength or the patience to worry about Jack and deal with their concern.
He did try to eat and sleep a little, knowing Jack wouldn't want him to neglect his health, but Carson just couldn't bring himself to leave Jack's room. He was the only person Jack allowed close, the only person he seemed aware of. And, especially, the only person capable of making him eat and drink enough fluids to keep his system from shutting down.
The others visited as often as possible, but they had been forced to continue their work with the tribes, helping to relocate those who had been hit by the fire, rebuilding villages, planting crops, finding missing tribesfolk. And then there was the business of Jabulani's death. The criminal world was in an uproar, smaller factions fighting amongst themselves for the former kingpin's job, regardless of who got caught in the middle. Jarod had nearly been killed when the team had tried to prevent a shootout between rival gangs in one of the poorer neighborhoods.
Carson looked down at the man sleeping peacefully on the bed. At least Jack's condition was slowly improving. He spoke more now, even if he was still incapable of full sentences, and more thought processes were going on behind his words. His eyes occasionally showed emotions as well, which was more than he had been able to do when Carson rescued him. Perhaps in time he would get his Jack back; at least Carson desperately hoped so.
Suddenly remembering that Roger was still in the room, he exhaled deeply. "Yeah. What's up?" he asked, not bothering to face the other man.
"You know what's up," Roger rebuked gently. "You didn't eat breakfast."
"I drank two cups of coffee," Carson replied.
"That's not breakfast," Roger said, and Carson heard him approach the bed. "You need food."
"I'll eat a bigger lunch."
"Promise?"
Carson finally turned to Roger. "I promise."
"I'll hold you to that." Roger placed a warm hand on Carson's shoulder. "How you doing?"
Carson shrugged lightly, not wanting to dislodge the comforting hand. "I want him to wake up. Be himself again."
"I know. Me too." Roger gave him a once-over, clearly frowning at his too-pale, unshaven face and the dark circles under his eyes. Carson knew what he looked like; he just couldn't bring himself to do anything about it. Maybe when Jack got better. "You look like shit, Carson."
Carson laughed a little at that. "Pot thy name is kettle," he said. "You wouldn't make the cover of GQ either. Not with that shiner and the potato-nose Jack gave you when you found us." He gave Roger a fond look. "Thanks, Rog."
Roger gave him a puzzled look. "What for?"
"For being such a good friend. For letting me borrow your clothes, for braving the mall and going with Jackie to buy me some that actually fit," Carson said, gesturing to the new clothes he was wearing.
Roger chuckled. "Yeah, well. I was running out of clothes." He surprised Carson by putting his arms around him and hugging him tightly for a moment. "You're family now, Carson. You can't get rid of us that easily."
Feeling somewhat awkward at the emotional display, Carson grinned a little shyly. "I don't think I want to."
Roger let him go and grinned back. "Good. I gotta go. Kit got word of two more runaways coming into town yesterday. We need to start looking for them. We'll be back at lunch."
"I'll be here."
Roger snorted. "There's a surprise," he said, but there was no malice in the words. He patted Carson's shoulder again. "See you later."
"Bye."
After Roger left, Carson sat by the bed, leaning back on the chair and closing his eyes. Tired from his constant vigil he promptly fell asleep, failing to notice the stormy hazel eyes fixed on him.
# # #
Carson startled awake, not sure what had brought him to sudden awareness. He brushed a hand tiredly over his hair, then glanced at his lover, his heart lurching in his chest as he realized the bed was empty; Jack was gone. Jumping to his feet Carson rushed to the bathroom, his worry doubling as he found it vacant.
He ran out of the room, bumping into a nurse. "Have you seen Jack MacKenzie, the patient in room seven?"
The young woman frowned. "No, I haven't. What's wrong?"
Carson didn't bother to reply, his eyes already scanning the corridor for Jack. He searched room after room, ward after ward, ran through every corridor, finding no clues as to Jack's whereabouts. He decided to do a floor by floor sweep, starting at the lower levels and moving up.
His anguish reached new heights as his search failed to provide him with any results. He was about to call the others for help when he finally made it to the roof. And there, hospital gown floating in the breeze, eyes looking lost as he stared at the horizon, stood Jack.
"Thank God," Carson sighed, walking cautiously to the other man until he was standing before him. "Jack? What are you doing out here? Why did you leave your room?" He touched Jack's arm and hissed. "Shit, you're freezing! Come on, let's go back inside."
Jack pulled free with a rough jerk, his face twisted into an angry grimace. "Betray!" he shouted into Carson's face.
Carson shook his head in confusion. "I don't understand. What's wrong, Jack?"
"Betray!" Jack snarled again, grabbing Carson abruptly and kissing him ruthlessly, the contact painful and bruising when it should have been tender.
Carson managed to break free from the tight grip, fingers touching his kiss-swollen lips gingerly. "Jack," he pleaded as his lover made to reach for him again. "Don't. I don't really get what's wrong, what you think I did. But I'd never betray you, I love you. Look, you're confused, maybe you misunderstood something I said or did. Let's go back inside, okay? You'll freeze to death out here. Jack?"
Something in his voice must have broken through because Jack stopped trying to reach for him, his eyes lowering to the ground. Carson moved closer, carefully, once again placing a hand on Jack's arm. When Jack didn't s
hrug off his touch or react in any way, Carson wrapped his arms around him and hugged him tightly.
"It's going to be okay, Jack," he said, wondering who he was trying to convince, Jack or himself. He stepped back, brushing his hand over Jack's cold cheek. "Let's go back to the room."
As he guided the now shivering man back to his room, Carson couldn't help but wonder what had caused Jack to react that way. It was the first time in five days that Jack had shown any signs of violence.
And that worried Carson.
# # #
Chapter Seventeen
When the others arrived at lunch time, Carson was watching Jack warily from a chair. Jack had been quiet since their return from the roof, his expression distinctively brooding as he sat on the bed.
"What's wrong?" Brendan asked immediately.
Before Carson could reply, Jack growled furiously. He leapt from the bed, punching Roger in the face and throwing him on the floor. Apparently not satisfied, he straddled Roger's body, grabbing his shirt and shaking him violently, causing Roger's head to connect with the marble floor repeatedly.
"No take, no take," he snapped, rage evident in his features. "Never!"
"Jack, no," Carson shouted, rushing over to separate the two men.
Jack flew away from Roger then, stalking closer to Carson with an angry stride. He grabbed Carson by the forearms, slamming him brutally against the wall. "Betray." He shoved Carson again and again into the white plaster. "Betray!"
Carson cried out, his healing shoulder impacting against the wall. "Jack, stop," he shouted breathlessly. "Stop!"
Jack didn't listen to him this time. Instead, he practically carried Carson over to the bed, fury giving him an unexpected bout of strength. He pinned Carson to the mattress, wrists held tightly over Carson's head.
Realizing fighting back would only make things worse, Carson froze under Jack's body, barely daring to breathe. He saw the others standing uncertainly by the bed--Brendan supporting a swaying Roger, who was once again sporting a bloody nose--obviously wondering if they should do something or not, afraid of hurting either Jack or Carson.
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