Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

------Mac------

“Jack, run faster!” Mac yelled, already multiple strides ahead of the other agent. Jack was pretty fast for his age (not that Mac would ever tell him that), but sometimes, especially when running from El Noche, he need to go a little bit faster.

“Look, there’s a fork up ahead.” Mac pointed, turning around to make eye contact with his partner. “I’ll go left, you go right!”

“That’s right, bud,” Jack wheezed. “Because Jack… is always… right.”

Mac sighed, slowing up to Jack’s speed. “Dude, you just broke Rule Number Two - no talking about yourself in the third person! And when, exactly, was the last time you were right about something?” With a laugh and a spurt of speed, Mac ran ahead again to dodge Jack’s fatigued punch, going to the left, as he had said he would.

“ ¡Síguenlo!” <Follow him!> came a shout from behind, and the pandilleros split up; a quick glance showed Mac that two were on his tail, meaning that four had taken on Jack.

Poor Jack, looking so tough and strong that he needs four gang members on him . Mac shook his head, and rounding a corner, spotted a room to duck into. Another spurt of speed got him in before the pandilleros could see where he went, and he breathed a sigh of relief from behind the door.

Suddenly, the door slammed. A surge of electricity went around it, shocking Mac away from it.

Shit. 

“We have you right where we want you, gringo ,” came a gloating voice from the other side.

Mac immediately began scanning his surroundings, looking for something, anything , to get him out of the room. Nothing… no windows, the door is… electronic somehow?... with a window. No vents, but… why is there a drain in the bottom of the floor? 

Mac quirked an eyebrow, but walked over to the drain and squatted, starting the process of removing the screws to use for-

“You see that drain, gringo? Do you know what it’s for?” The same voice as before, this time interrupting his thoughts, not just his escape. Mac lifted his head, and saw both men who had been chasing him now standing in view of the window. One went over to the side, and his arm moved, as though he were pressing something.

“Well, I don’t know what it’s for,” he responded, “but I guess you’re going to tell me?" 

“Ah, sí , señor . What a bright boy.” Mac’s entire head rolled with his eyes. “Do you see what’s coming up from the drain?” 

Water. SHIT. Mac scrambled away from the drain, eyes wide, screws in his fist, shoes slapping the suddenly wet floor. 

“In about seven minutes, your whole room will be filled with water, and you will drown. Or , you could bang on this door three times, and we will press this button to drain the room. We will let you out - y, entonces , we will shoot you and then take you to our jefe so he can deal with you!”

Ah, of course they would shoot him. And their boss would probably torture him, and then shoot him again. It seemed that Mac was trapped.

“You have seven minutes to decide, gringo . After that, you’ll be swimming con los peces . The dead ones.” The two men left, probably to go find Jack.

“Wow, he got that from Shark Tale .”

“Riley!” Mac had never been so glad to hear her voice in his ears. 

“So, Mac, when are you gonna get out of there? The button they pressed was mechanic, so I can’t do anything about that. And the water has shorted out the door, so… oops?” Mac could just imagine Riley’s hands going in the air, her lip being bit in frustration.

Bozer’s voice came over the comms, saying, “Mac, buddy, Jack’s tryna head over there now. He’s got two out of four down, but your two are heading his way and I think he got a bit shanked at one point and his comms are kinda spotty and…” he grimaced, “bro, how you gonna get out?”

Mac ran a hand through his hair, looking at the screws in his hand. “I don’t know, Boze. Well, I mean, I suppose, if I…" 

With enough force, a little point can break through any thickness of glass. Mac cast aside all but one screw, looked at the tip, and then threw it in the water too. Fishing out is Swiss Army knife, he backed up to the edge of the wall.

“Guys, I’m gonna try to break the glass on this door, okay? It should let the water out, so I’ll still have to swim a bit I guess, but at least I won’t drown. I should last for long enough for Jack to head over here to press the button to let me out again.”

“How… how are you gonna break the glass?” Riley sounded so confused, like Jack whenever Mac mentioned the word ‘physics.’

“Well, basically, I’m going to run really fast at the door and plunge my knife into it. Hopefully, if I do this enough times, the glass will shatter.” 

“Huh.” Mac could practically see Riley and Bozer raising their eyebrows at each other, impressed. “You do you, Mac.”

Mac rolled his eyes, and jumped a bit to hype himself up.

“Okay,” he muttered. “Three, two, one…” 

Mac sprinted for the door, knife in hand, and brought it down as hard as he could against the glass, shattering it. 

Cheers erupted over the comms, but they abruptly cut out, as did the feed on Mac’s side. 

In his haste to rid himself of the screws, Mac had screwed himself over. When sprinting, he had run straight over a screw, sending himself skidding fast enough to break the glass in one go, but also knocking him into the door face first, causing him to fall into the water - also face first. 

------Riley------ 

“Mac? Mac?” The comms fizzled, and Riley and Bozer looked up at each other with identical faces of fear.

“Maybe… maybe he just dropped his ear piece in the water?” Riley rose and crossed the short space in the van, typing something on a keyboard on the other side of the van to try to bring back Mac’s comms.

“...can’t believe he… can I get some… guys are you… guys are you listening to me?” Jack’s voice came over the comms, confused.

“Jack!” said Bozer, relief evident in his voice. “Jeez, old man, your comms cut out for a minute… where are you?”

“Oh, so no, “Jack, are you okay? Jack, how ever did you manage to take down four assailants at once?”” 

Bozer and Riley rolled their eyes in unison. Jack’s antics were ever-so dramatic, even though he claimed to be the most grounded out of all of them. Bozer thought he would have done good in movies; Riley believed he would be better served as an out-loud reader for children’s books. 

“Jack, no one cares. Taking out four assailants is a regular Friday for you. And plus, you have two more heading your way right now.” 

The sound of two thuds was heard, and then, “Oh, you mean those two assailants? Yeah, thanks for the warning, Ri. But they’re dealt with. Mac’s where, now? I could only hear parts of your conversation with him.”

Riley sighed, taking a deep breath to get the story out. “Jack, that’s the problem. When you guys split up, he got trapped in a room that started filling with water. He was gonna break out, or at least, make it so that he couldn’t drown, but then his comms cut out. They might’ve just fallen in the water, but… Jack, we don’t know if he’s okay or not. He was gonna be waiting for you anyways to get him out of the room, but-” another breath- “ if you could please hurry that’d be great because we don’t know if he’s okay or not!”

“Ok, girlie, keep your pants on, I’m heading over there right now! I’m sure he’s… fine.”

--------Jack-------

Jack came to the fork where he and Mac had split up, and looked left, then right, then left again, shifting from foot to foot. “Uh, guys…?”

“Take a right, Jack,” came Riley’s exasperated tones. “C’mon, you know that. Did you get hit in the head or what?”

“Well, as a matter of fact…” Jack muttered.

“Whatever, cowboy,” said Bozer. “Just get Mac and get to exfil, you can complain about your damn concussion later.”

“Bozer, that’s no way to talk to a concussed man,” Riley snorted, and Jack could hear a whack from Riley and a shout of pain from Bozer. The two bickered while he ran towards Mac’s room, Jack smiling the whole way at their antics.

He came to Mac’s room and halted. Shocked, he stood for a long moment.

“No, no, no, no, no!” he cried. 

Mac had indeed managed to break the glass, but that was where his luck broke, too. He was floating facedown in water, and as far as Jack could tell, he wasn't breathing.

The agent quickly slammed down on the button to the side of the door and started tugging on the door to open it. Grinding with effort, Jack finally managed to push the door open. More water came spilling out, practically sweeping Jack off his feet.

“Mac!” he yelled, pulling the younger man close to him. “Come on, partner, wake up, wake up .” Mac laid out on the floor, his chest not moving.

A slight gasp over the comms, then Riley's worried voice- “Jack. If… if he's not breathing, you're going to need to do CPR. Do you need me to walk you through the steps-”

“No, Ri, it's okay, I know how to do it. I've done it before.” Jack knelt down beside Mac and started chest compressions. “Stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive, ah, ah, ah, ah…”

“Jack, you know you don't actually have to sing, right?” Bozer now. “ You can just do the compressions and save us all the agony of listening to your awful singing.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Yeah, thanks for the help at home, Bozer, but considering I'm saving both yours and my best friend’s life , I think you should let me do what I need to do.”

Jack leaned down to breathe into Mac’s mouth, but he didn't need to. The boy sputtered, eyes fluttering.

“Mac!” Jack whooped. “C’mon bud, that’s it, that’s it, open your eyes. Let me see those baby blues.” 

“J’ck… J… Jack?”

Jack smiled, helping Mac sit up. He rubbed his back, and Mac continued to cough up water. “It’s all good, bud. Just breathe. Just sit here a minute and cough up all that damn water and breathe. ”

“I’m… I’m fine Jack, really.” Mac started to get up, and Jack helped him stand. The younger agent was leaning heavily on him, but he seemed okay.

“Alright, buddy, let’s get you to exfil and then we can go home .” Jack led him out of the corridor and down the twisting hallways to the outside. There, the two were picked up by Bozer and Riley in the van, and they all continued to the exfil coordinates about five miles down the road.

------Mac------

The flight back to Los Angeles was nice; Mac got in a short map and felt much better. But when he and the others walked into the war room for the debrief, he stumbled a bit.

“Mac, you okay there, hoss?” worried Jack. Mac glanced up at his face, which was swimming before his eyes.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine, Jack. You worry too much, old man.” Mac sat down in a chair. The room seemed a little warm, and it started swimming, too.

“So, excellent job everybody,” started Matty. “We got the flashdrive, which has enough information to put...” Matty didn’t trail off, but Mac’s hearing did. He reached for a paperclip to calm his nerves, but halfway to the bowl, his arm stopped paying attention to his head. It dropped, and so did Mac’s body.

-------Jack------ 

Mac entered the war room in front of him, and he saw the boy stumble a bit.

“Mac, you okay there, hoss?” Jack said. He knew some of his papa bear was showing, but the kid hadn’t been breathing a few hours ago. He figured he had a right to feel like this. 

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine, Jack. You worry too much, old man.” Mac sat down in a chair, seemingly oblivious of Jack’s guiding hand to place him there. Mac usually never sat, but the kid seemed like he was one gust of wind away from blowing over.

Matty glanced at Mac, concerned, but then started the debrief. “So, excellent job everybody. We got the flashdrive, which has enough information to put the Mexico City portion of El Noche behind bars for a while.” Matty looked at Mac again, and Jack did too, noticing his glassy eyes. Usually, at this point, he and Jack would have been high-fiving over some crazy thing he had done to save them, but Mac seemed to not even be paying attention.

“Mac? Angus, what’s wrong? You good?”

Mac didn’t respond, instead just reached for a paperclip. As he did so, his entire being seemed to just collapse - suddenly, he was lying on the floor, bleeding on his forehead from where he banged his head on the table.

“MAC! Shit, someone get a medic in here!” Jack shouted, leaping over a chair to get to his friend. Mac’s eyes were rolled back in his head; his body was shaking and he was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. 

“Oh, God, Mac. What happened to you?” Jack didn’t need to wonder for long, though. A med team stormed the war room and clustered around Mac.

“Pneumonia,” said one, who then stood up and came to him. “Was he in a cold or wet place before this? What happened on the mission?”

Jack looked at Matty for clarification to tell, and Matty inclined her head. “Uh, well, he kinda swallowed a lot of water and stopped breathing for a bit when he slipped and hit his head?” Jack winced, knowing how bad it sounded when he said it out loud. “But he said he felt fine afterwards,” he tried to justify.

The doctor gave him a look like, And you thought Mac was fine because he, a self-sacrificing idiot with an unparalleled pain tolerance, said he was?

Jack sighed, watching almost with fear as his friend was put on a cart and rolled down to medical.

------Mac-----

“Mac, come on. You can pull through this, just please wake up.”

Mac slitted his eyes open, but it seemed a little bright. He decided to close them again.

“Macky boy, let’s go. Just wake up.”  

Mac tried again, but this time his chest felt funny. He tried to sigh in response, but couldn’t quite get it out. It turned into a cough, and then Mac, exhausted, fell asleep again.

The third time seemed to be the charm. But when Mac finally opened his eyes, he saw Jack’s sleeping form in front of him, arms crossed, head down, brows knotted. And probably just a bit worried about him, too.

“ Jack ,” he whispered.

As Mac had suspected, Jack shocked awake. His eyes lighted on Mac. “Aw, Mac! Brother, you’re awake! It was a bit touch and go for a minute, I’m glad you’re finally back.” 

Jack’s face looked so jubilant and juvenile that Mac couldn’t help but laugh a bit, but that made him start coughing.

Jack’s jubilance turned to concern, and he immediately stood up, coming to Mac’s side. “Woah, woah, it’s alright,” he said.

Mac rolled his eyes. “Of course it’s alright, Jack, you’re here. I couldn’t ask for a better friend.”

“Uh, maybe, but you didn’t tell me that you were gonna pass out and that’s a bit concerning to me? Mac, you can’t just fall over in the middle of a debrief. I… er, we were all scared something was seriously wrong with you.”

“And you were wrong, it was just, what, pneumonia maybe? From the excess water in my lungs?”

Jack stared at him with the intensity he usually reserved for hamburgers, pizza, and a game of skeeball. “Mac, we were right . I was right, like usual, that’s not the point. The point is that pneumonia… bro, you could have died. Because you decided to play the martyr who doesn’t tell people when you feel a bit off . Now this time, it all worked out, but what if it doesn’t next time?”

Jack turned away, but not before Mac noticed the tears glazing his eyes. “Jack,” he said, voice soft. “I’m sorry. I promise this won’t ever happen again.” 

Jack sniffed and sighed and turned back. He sat beside the bed and reached over to muss Mac’s hair, scoffing, “Don’t keep promises you can’t keep, Mac. But I appreciate the apology, and I hope you try.”

Mac smiled, looking out the window. With a partner like Jack, he didn’t need to try too hard. Jack would always be there to pick him up and carry him home.

Chapter Text

In the days before Phoenix, DXS, and even the army, Angus MacGyver did in fact go to college; MIT, to be precise. And though he was one of the smartest kids there, he could also be one of the stupidest.

“Bet you can’t.”

“Bet I can.”

“Bet you can’t.”

“Bet I can.”

“Ten bucks says you can’t.”

“Twenty says I’ll do it in less than thirty seconds.”

“Alright, Blondie, you’re on.”

Mac hadn’t slept in two nights, and he was living for it. One of his ‘friends’ had slipped him a pill in place of his multivitamin, and Mac hadn’t known about it. But this was the best living he had ever done - everything seemed so much brighter and warmer and a bit more confusing, but it was totally worth it. He had been a bit mad at first, but then his friend had turned a little blue (or had it been orange?) for some reason and Mac soon forgot about it. The name ‘modafinil’ had been tossed around, but Mac soon forgot that, too.

Currently, Mac and one of his new friends, Jesse, were betting on Mac’s ability to Houdini himself out of a box that one of Jesse’s friends, Owen, would set on fire. Another friend, Makai, would be on standby with a fire extinguisher while Savannah, a cute girl Mac had met ten minutes ago, would be timing. Mac hadn’t wanted to do it because ever since that pill his brain had been a bit more addled, but he didn’t want to disappoint Jesse or Savannah or anyone else, either.

The room was actually full of people, Mac hadn’t realized that until now. So a little bit of pressure, whatever, he could handle that. And now he definitely couldn’t back down, he would be seen as a wussy.

Mac cracked his neck and shook his hair out. He hoped it wouldn’t start on fire or anything, he really liked it. The last time he looked in the mirror it had been blue for some reason, but then again, so had everything else - and there were some weird butterflies in his room, too.

Mac put his hands in front of him, and they were quickly handcuffed. He didn’t know where the handcuffs came from, but he really didn’t want to, either. Next, a thick rope was wrapped around his wrists, in a figure-eight fashion. Finally, a thick chain was wrapped over his chest and biceps three times, and secured with a four-digit combo lock.

Two boys came up next to him and grabbed him; Mac noticed that their arms were roughly as thick as his head. They were probably football jocks or something, that’s probably why they were hanging around this alcohol-invested, drug-induced party. Come to think of it, why was Mac there? Oh yeah, he had taken a pill too… what was it? When had that been?

Mac stumbled out of the grasp of the two football players, suddenly dizzy. Someone called out, “Hey, you can’t back down now!” Back down from what?

A box loomed in front of him, and he remembered - he was gonna Harry Houdini himself out of this box! How… how was he going to do that again?

The jocks lifted him up and threw him down into the wooden box, which was more like a coffin, now that Mac thought about it. The lid was put on, but the slats still allowed Mac a bit a light. Huh. It was just a simple pair of handcuffs, a slip-knotted rope, and a combo lock. Pro tip: when dealing with high and drunk college students, any combination they pick will probably be their birthday, four of the same number in a row, or an even more accessible number - the date of that day . Why… why was this such a problem for people to escape from?

It seemed a little warmer, but all Mac could see was some orange butterflies. Orange and yellow, and light blue? And maybe red… wait, there were no butterflies, it was fire! Holy shit, he needed to get out of here fast! Not because of getting burned, but because of smoke inhalation. Or something like that.

Mac picked the cuffs and undid the knot. He clicked the lock around a bit, but he suddenly felt so very tired. Two days without sleep was a bit much, possibly. And his arms felt really warm, like something was burning them. What could…? Oh, that’s right, the fire. That could be burning them. But then why did he feel cold? Why was he shaking?

In a sudden moment of clarity, Mac remembered the side of a bottle he had seen once - modafinil - side effects may include: fever, hallucinations, confusion, trouble breathing, heart palpitations. Oh. So he had a fever, and he was trapped in a burning box. Either that or he was surrounded by butterflies, he still hadn’t decided yet. But he knew one thing - he couldn’t get out. The lock was no problem (0-2-0-2), but it was the box’s cover that was just… so… heavy…

----------------

There was someone shaking him, and he didn’t know why.

“DUDE!” It was Jesse, he guessed. That guy was so loud. “Your freaking jacket was on fire , but you totally kept your cool! And I guess I owe you the twenty dollars, you did that in like twenty three point seven two seconds it was insane! You like kinda low-key passed out right there for a minute, but like, woah I guess it’s beers for everyone!”

A hissing sound reached Mac’s ears now, and he turned to see one of the guys… Makai?... putting out the box he had been in moments before. He sat up, but immediately regretted it; his whole head felt like it was on fire, but his hands felt so cold and his legs felt like jell-o. Owen and Jesse helped him up and into a chair, but he still felt weak.

“Thanks, Jesse, but I don’t want a beer. I think I wanna go lie down,” Mac said, trying to stand up without leaning too heavily on the table beside him.

“Okay, dude, whatever you say, I guess it’s MORE BEER FOR THE REST OF US!” Jesse shouted the last part in Mac’s ear, and he had to sit down again to regain his bearings.

He might have passed out for another second or two, but then he carefully stood up and walked out of the house. Mac took a deep breath of the cool night air, thankfully free of smoke. He didn’t really remember where he lived, he had been at Jesse’s buddy’s frat house for the last two days, and couldn’t remember… maybe he’d just follow the stream of butterflies home.

Mac tried to take another deep breath; suddenly, he was gasping for air.

“Help… someone… help…”

No one came to the aid of the boy they had been cheering on just minutes ago, and their ‘Houdini’ didn’t know how to get out of this trap.

Reaching into his pocket, Mac pulled out his phone. It looked slightly charred, from what he didn’t know, but hopefully it would still work. On the ground now, alternately trying to draw a breath and dry heaving, he quickly dialed 9-1-1.

“ 9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” came the pleasant tones of an operator.

“Please, I… I can’t breathe… I can’t breathe… I… I can’t…” And with that, Mac slumped fully to the ground, passed out, chest unmoving.

--------------

When Mac woke up this time, no one was shaking him.

Someone was holding his hand though, in a white room. White, just like that pill he took by accident… that pill… that… oh, God .

“Mac!” Who was… Bozer?

“Boze? I thought you were in California… what are you doing in Massachusetts?” he asked voice croaking from disuse.

“Bro, you…” Bozer paused, tears in his eyes. “You almost died . Smoke inhalation plus bad side effects from modafinil plus two nights without sleep? Where did you even inhale smoke from, and why did you take modafinil?” Bozer didn’t even question the two nights with no sleep, that was almost below normal for Mac, as far as he was concerned. “You've been sleeping or in a coma or something for the last three days . They called me in the morning of the first day, I guess I was the only one to call.”

Mac scrubbed a hand over his face. “Boze, I'm so sorry. Some guy-” Mac couldn't remember his name- “slipped me a pill and I ate it by accident and then there was some… I don't know, some box I was in was set on fire? But I got out of it… but then…”

“But then you called 9-1-1 and by the time they found you, you were passed out on the ground, alone, and not even breathing.”

“Christ, Boze…”

Bozer patted his friend’s shoulder. “Uh, yeah. That doesn't cut it, bro. You need to come back with me to Cali - go to Stanford or something like I said, then we can still be close to each other! Or at least, closer than we are now.”

“No, Boze, it's fine, I won't screw up again. I'm sorry this happened, but-”

“ Sorry? You're sorry? And that's supposed to make me feel better?” Bozer stood up, incredulous. “I get a phone call at 2:30 in the morning that my best friend, my brother, is lying in a hospital bed in the other side of the country in a coma or what-have-you and I come here and wait by his bed for three days for him to wake up, wondering if he's ever gonna wake up, and you think saying “sorry” makes it all better?”

“Bozer, I-”

“Just stop, Mac. I know you're sorry, okay? I get that you didn't know you were gonna put me through this. Really, I do. It's just…” Bozer sighed, flopping down on his chair. “Seeing you like this - all pale, and.. so still - it just… I don't know what would have happened had I lost you.”

Both young men had tears in their eyes now. “Boze-” Mac choked out.

Bozer turned to him, and the two hugged, long and hard.

An hour later, when a nurse came to check on Mac, she found the two in the bed together, Bozer’s arm around Mac, Mac’s head on Bozer’s chest, perfectly content to just sleep in one another's presence.

Chapter Text

Mac was sitting by Jack’s bedside, the man hurt for once instead of him. Jack had, once again, taken a bullet for Mac, but that bullet had taken his clavicle. It was totally shattered, and Jack would be out of commission for at least six weeks. Thought knowing Jack, it would probably end up being longer because he would find some reason to use his arm and change the position over and over again.

Jack sighed in his sleep, and Mac sighed in agreeance. Jack was hyped up on morphine right now and totally dead to the world, but Mac figured he’d still talk to him anyway.

“Hey, Jack,” he said. “Super Bowl’s on tonight. Cowboys aren’t in it, but we’re still gonna miss the party at your house. I can’t believe you got hurt just so that we don’t have to suffer through your cooking, that was very noble of you.” Mac smiled, remembering last year’s catastrophe - Jack said they were wings, but Bozer didn’t think they had even come from a living animal, Riley had nearly puked just from looking at them, and Mac actually did puke; he had been the only one to eat them, to make Jack feel good, but then had gotten food poisoning.

“Yeah, maybe don’t make the wings again,” he laughed. “But if you could at least wake up, maybe Bozer’ll make some good stuff? Sliders, mozzarella sticks, tiny little one-bite pizzas…” Mac trailed off, suddenly hungry.

“Y’know what pal, I think I’m gonna go get a bagel or something, I’ll be right back, ok?” Mac got up and left the room, turning to close the door behind him, smiling at his partner.

Mac got his bagel and was heading back when he felt a little sting in his neck. “I musta slept wrong or something,” he muttered, continuing to Jack’s room. However, he didn’t get very far before he fell to the ground, a puppet with cut strings. Mac couldn’t understand why he wasn’t able to move, and his vision started to get spotty. “What the…”

Just before his eyes closed, the puppet master appeared above him. “Well, Mr. MacGyver, I’m sorry to see you’re not feeling too well! What do you say we take you back to my little shop and fix you up?”

“Murdoc… n-... no...” Mac mumbled, finally passing out.

------------------------

Mac woke up in a metal chair in a half-lit room, his vision nearly as dark, trying to adjust; there was also an IV set in his arm. “D’ja vuuu… m’ch?” he murmured to the general darkness.

“Oh, Macky, there will be nothing similar about this to the last time! Nor to the time before that!”  Murdoc’s needlessly cheery voice was already grating on Mac’s nerves, and he had said only a few words to him. “You see, my dear MacGyver, usually, Prince Charming, a.k.a. Jack Dalton , comes to save you. But this time, Jack isn’t here, and he won’t be! How wonderful that his… right, is it?... clavicle is broken, it makes for a nice time for you and me to have some fun.”

“Jack’ll… J’ck… he’ll… still come f’r youuu…” Mac slurred.

“Oh, hush, my sweet,” Murdoc said, flipping on a light switch, much to the pain of Mac’s eyes. He blinked a few times to clear them, but the pain still persisted. “Ah, yes, are you enjoying the effects of my delicious druggy cocktail? I made it just for you, you know. Do you like it?”

“I… don’t…” Mac tried to blink again, but his vision still swam, now in time to the throbbing of his arm.

Murdoc crossed the room, postulating, “Well, dear boy, I’ll take your lack of an answer as a yes. Now, I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here?”

“No… I f’gur… you’ll juss… tell me.”

“What a smart boy! Of course, I will indulge. You see, I have been lonely.” Murdoc’s dramatically forlorn face swam across Mac’s unfocused line of sight. “There is no mission, no information, no real reason that you would find, except for the fact that I have missed you, my dear Angus.”

“Oh, lucky… lucky me,” Mac groaned, head suddenly a bit clearer, he was noticing.

Murdoc had noticed, too. At Mac’s almost coherent sentence, he stopped, straightened, and came up to Mac. “My boy, are you finally awake? What joy! Now we can play!” And as he laughed with the joy of a seven-year-old playing with his first set of Legos, Murdoc all but skipped over to a toolbox Mac had just caught sight of.

“What… are you going… to do to me?” he asked.

“Nothing much.” Murdoc held up something Mac couldn’t quite make out, examining it as he said, “A little of this, a little of that.”

As Murdoc drew closer, Mac could discern what was in his hand - his own Swiss Army knife. “You know,” Murdoc noted, “I’ve always admired this thing - a real beauty, that’s for sure. So shiny and silver and red.”

“Yeah, what’s it to you?” asked Mac, wary.

“Well, it’s just that I think it could use a little more red, if you know what I mean.”

And even if Mac didn’t know what Murdoc meant, he soon found out, as each attachment was thrust into his body separately, covering the knife in blood.

“Ah yes, a nice little knife-” and explosion of pain, as Mac’s arm became a canvas for the masterpiece that was Murdoc’s work-

“Oooh, a bigger knife-” a cut on his chest in the shape of a Swiss cross-

“A ruler? I wonder how far this goes in-” the distance from Mac’s chest to his back was measured, right through him-

“A scissors? Oh, isn’t this just so cute, here, look-” Mac’s head was bent forward for him to see better, and the scissors forced open the whole way to make a cut on the side of his forehead and through his eyebrow, barely missing his eye-

“Can openers are for bottles, but I think they might work for this, too-” a pinky’s fingernail was pried off-

“Oh, I do love wine-” and Mac’s stomach gushed enough blood to fill a glass of the darkest merlot as the corkscrew was twisted into it.

Mac was left gasping, unable to get in enough air but unable to keep in blood, either.

“Ah, yes, hasn’t this been fun?”

“Nyah,” Mac moaned, powerless to stop himself from validating Murdoc’s vile tendencies.

“Well, my dear, darling Angus, I suppose we will have to be done for now. And since you were such a good boy, I think I will leave you a little present.” Murdoc set the knife on Mac’s lap, and then went over to his toolbox and held something up. The blood loss was making Mac a bit sleepy, but he tried to open his eyes wide enough to see-

“It’s a cell phone, Mr. MacGyver. Now, I know you might be feeling a little weak, but I also know you have a very big, full brain and can probably get yourself out of your restraints in a jiffy.” He hopped a little as he said jiffy , and for some reason, it sent Mac over the edge.

“What’s wrong with you? Why won’t you just leave me alone?” he cried, and then cried out from the pain of shifting in his seat, which jarred some wound Murdoc had made - probably the incision in his thigh from the wood saw.

Murdoc came real close to him then, and took Mac’s face in his grasp; the movement poured blood into his eyes, and he blinked hard and fast to clear them. “My dear, sweet boy,” Murdoc said, disgustingly slow, “Sometimes, when I get lonely, just like I did today, I need someone to play with. And you, Angus, are my favorite toy.”

And with that, Murdoc set the cell phone two steps away from where Mac sat, and walked out of the room.

Chapter Text

-------------Mac------------

The blood loss was a bit much for Mac, and though he closed his eyes, he thought it was just for a moment. But when he opened his eyes again, the stain on his chest had grown all the bigger. As had the one on his his leg, and the one on his arm; and the other one on his chest, and the puddle around the arm of his chair where his nail had been ripped off. Mac was fading fast, and he knew it.

He just needed to get the needle out and get the phone in his hand. But how was he to do that?

Good thing Murdoc was being semi-helpful, leaving my knife in my lap . Mac bent his head down and lifted his leg up so he could grab the knife with his teeth; or at least, that’s what he tried to do. Instead, he almost blacked out from the pain of raising up the leg with the saw mark in it, and he mouth was filled with blood from the cut that was still leaking down the side of his face.

Mac cried out, and then attempted to take a steadying breath. In and out, in and out. If I can shift the knife to my other leg, I’ll be able to lift it up to my head. But the hard part would be not passing out again. Mac knew that if he fell unconscious another time, he might never awake.

Ok, focus. Focus. What can kill me right here, right now? Not the blood loss, but the ‘not getting to the phone to call for help.’ I need to do everything I can to get to it. 

And he did; he didn’t know how, but somehow, Mac managed to shift his left leg slightly up and bear the pain long enough for his knife to fall onto his other leg. He took a deep breath, and then precariously lifted that leg up while bending his head down, and picked up the knife with his mouth. Thank God, for some reason the toothpick was sticking out; it made for a perfect lock pick, and soon Mac’s wrists were free. He quickly tugged out the needle in his arm, and the slickness of the sudden splurt of blood made him lose his grip on the knife. He bent down to pick it up and almost face-planted, he was so weak.

Then Mac spotted the phone, not four feet away from him. Oh, yeah. I shouldn’t lose sight of my priorities… I need… help…

Mac stretched an arm out, blood dripping, but couldn’t quite reach. He shifted slightly, still both unable and unwilling to fully get up, and lunged for the phone. His fingers grasped the cool metal and he brought it close to his face to see the numbers on the screen. They almost seemed to swim before his eyes, but his muscle memory enabled him to call his best friend.

“ Mac? Where are you?” answered Jack, after about half a ring.

“ Jack ,” Mac quietly cried, tears of joy mixing with those of hurt on his face at the sound of the man’s voice. “I don’t know where I am, Murdoc… Murdoc took me.”

“ Murdoc… what? Mac, stay on the line, please, buddy, come on, let Riley trace the call,” Jack pleaded, obviously in distress.

“Of course, pal. I’m not… I’m not going anywhere.” Mac slumped against the chair he had been tortured in. It would be so easy to just close his eyes and wait…

“ MAC. Stay awake,” demanded a voice. Who...? Why did they want to keep Mac from… from falling… asleep…

--------Jack----------

“Mac. MAC!” Jack yelled into the phone, but the only sounds that reached him were those of rapidly fading breaths. “Riley! Did you find his location?”

“Yeah, actually, I did,” responded the girl, seemingly confused. “It was surprisingly easy… it’s almost like Murdoc actually wanted us to find Mac this time.”

Jack stood up and headed for the door. “Well, alright then, where’s the location?”

Just as he said that, Matty walked in the door. “And just where do you think you’re going, mister?”

“To… to find… Mac?” Jack questioned.

“Um, yeah, that’s a hard no. You have a shattered collarbone, and we all know that that sling is barely being used as it is. I am not just going to let you go galavanting off on a mission when there are plenty of other operatives who can save your partner.”

“But Matty ,” he whined, “if you don’t let me go, I’m just gonna go anyway and ruin my arm even more.”

Matty looked at him long and hard; Riley’s head flew back and forth between the two’s staring contest, the battle of wills more interesting than whatever she had been doing on her computer.

“Fine,” Matty relented. “But you are to come straight back afterwards, and at least two weeks without a mission.”

“ Two weeks?”

“JACK.”

“Fine , you wet blanket.” At Matty’s raised eyebrows, Jack quickly brought the subject back to Mac. “So, where has the Doc hidden our boy genius?”

Riley rattled of coordinates and Jack quickly assembled a TAC team to retrieve his boy. Twenty minutes later, their van pulled up in front of an old warehouse (of course it was an abandoned warehouse, where else would Murdoc do his disgusting shit?).

They wouldn’t let Jack kick in the door, something about orders from Matty to not let him exert himself, but he led the charge down the steps to the lower level, his good arm keeping a gun trained in front of him.

“Mac? Buddy? You here?” he called, listening for what he assumed would be his friend’s weak reply. What he didn’t expect was to nearly slip in a pool of blood after he made it down the steps. “Mac- woah!” he yelled, balance tipping, trying to right himself. “Mac! Where are you?”

And then he saw the boy. Pale, slightly trembling, barely breathing; more blood on him than on the floor of a slaughterhouse.

“Oh, Macky. What has he done to you?” He ran over to his young partner and cradled him in his arm, rocking him back and forth gently.

Mac’s eyes inched open as he said, “Jack?”

“I’m here, bud. I’m right here. We’ve got you,” he reassured him.

Mac sighed, content. “I knew you would come.”

His eyes closed again, and Jack sat there, waiting for the med team to come, his boy in his lap, utterly trusting, almost wearing a smile in his sleep.

Chapter Text

“Oh, God,” Mac breathed, aghast at the time.

“What is it?” Jack asked, rushing over to where he sat in front of the bomb.

Mac looked up at his partner, fear in his eyes. “Jack, there’s… there’s no time left. There’s too much to do with this one. The most I can do is to get you out of here before it goes off… I can probably shield it with my body, but if I take my foot off this pressure plate-”

And at once, Mac’s foot was off the pressure plate; in fact, he was lying on the floor, with no idea how he had gotten there.

“Jack, what...?” And then he saw his partner - his foot on the pressure plate, tears in his eyes.

“Mac, I can’t let you. You have so much more life to live with me, I’m just an old man. You need… you need to go.”

Mac’s mouth fell open. “Jack, no.” Mac got up and tried to shove his old friend off the plate, but he wouldn’t budge. “Jack, you’ve-” push- “got-” push- “to-” push- “ MOVE.” With the final jolt, Jack shoved back, knocking Mac to the floor.

“Angus, listen to me-”

Suddenly, Oversight - James - Dad - and two other agents burst into the room. He took in the sight of Mac sprawled on the floor, Jack standing on the plate, and tears in both men’s eyes, faces as red as the wires of the bomb. James looked right at Jack as he asked, “Time?”

Jack glanced at the little digital clock before saying, “Less than a minute.”

James focused on Mac now. “What’s the blast radius?”

“I- anything within fifteen yards will be incinerated, but-” Mac choked, grasping a hand at Jack. “I can’t just leave him …”

“Yes, you can. ” Mac didn’t notice James take out the syringe and stick his neck until he collapsed, unable to move.

“What’re you… what’re you doing…”

“Saving your life,” James spat, gesturing for the two agents to pick up Mac. One nodded at Jack, his sacrifice duly noted.

They were almost out the door when- “Wait,” Jack called. The agents stopped, turning Mac to face Jack. “Mac… it’s not your fault, okay? It’s not- it’s not your fault. Don’t forget that.”

Tears were running down Jack’s face faster than the countdown was ticking behind him; Mac could only blink in response, the rest of his body paralyzed by his father’s drug. But his eyes held the world for Jack, just as Jack practically was his world.

But that world ended eighteen seconds later.

------- at some point ----------

Mac flinched every time one of the candles on the altar flickered. He kept seeing the aftermath of the explosion, the brightness and the image both seared into his eyes. Everyone wore black, and Mac finally understood why - there was nothing, absolutely no reason at all to wear bright colors when there was nothing bright, nothing to be happy about.

Jack was gone . For forever. He’d gone out like he wanted to, but Mac hadn’t wanted him to go at all.

Part way through, Mac just left. He couldn’t take it anymore: the pain on everyone’s faces, the flag beside the empty casket. He simply got up and left, tears spilling from his eyes, unable to focus on anything, just needing to be anywhere but in there .

In the gathering space in the back of the church, someone had made collages of photos from Jack’s life. Mac was ready to blow past them when he saw something - a phoenix. It was a picture from Cairo, right after the disastrous mission, and in the picture, Mac was being jokingly choked by Jack with the phoenix necklace he had just bought. Mac’s eyes were bulging and his tongue was out, a position Mac knew to be a complete mockery of what being choked really felt like. Jack was smiling, laughing , a hand in Mac’s hair and one around the necklace.

The picture next to it was from a day later, when Mac had made Jack try some different Arabic foods. Jack’s face was one of such utter, hilarious disgust; Mac’s face was one of such utter, unbridled joy in seeing Jack suffer in that way. A smile cracked on Mac’s face, and he scrubbed a hand to wipe his tears; another went to ruffle his hair.

The door opened behind him, and Matty walked in.

“Mac-”

“It’s okay, Matty. I’m fine.”

Matty came over to him and took his hand, wanting to lead him back into the body of the church.

But Mac tugged his hand away and walked out the door.

--------- a few weeks after --------

“Hey, Mac, how’s it going over there?” Riley shouted from across the room, trading shots with this week’s brand of bad guys.

“It’s great, Ri, I almost have it defused. I just have to snip this wire and then-” Mac made a broad, sweeping gesture with his hand, another bomb successfully un-detonated.

“Alright! Let’s get out of here, and-”

BOOM.

Mac was drawn to the window, the fiery explosion outside rendering him immobile. It was too much like… too similar to… Jack -

“-ac! Mac! Come on, we have to move before they come in!”

Mac did everything but move. “There were… were there… people… in that building?”

“No, no, Mac, come on , everything was empty, remember? We checked it all before we came in here, there were no people. Mac, we have to move now !” Riley was so insistent, grabbing his arm, tugging him. He decided that maybe he should stand up, until a sudden pain made him crumple.

“Mac!” Riley shouted. His shoulder hurt so much… oh, not again. There was no way he had yet another gunshot wound in his right shoulder.

“Mac, let’s move!” And then Riley screeched in pain, collapsing to the ground beside Mac. A stain was spreading across her stomach. The red bloomed like an explosion, like Jack…

A moan from Riley shocked Mac into action. There was a rag on the ground nearby; disgusting, probably disease or germ-ridden, but what he needed to stop the blood flow. A snip later he was holding a wire from the bomb, and tying it around Riley’s stomach as a makeshift tourniquet, along with the rag.

Riley’s eyes were shut as he lifted her up, fluttering weakly. With a groan of effort, he lifted her in front of him bridal style, staggering towards the door. He walked down the stairs, out the door, and towards the field in the back of the property.

Somehow, Mac made it to exfil without losing Riley, or himself. As the chopper rose into the air, Mac closed his eyes. The pain in his shoulder was so great that it was hard for him to do anything other than just breathe. He wished there were someone - Jack - to help him, but no one came, no one was coming; he would have to just suffer alone.

----------- a bit later ------------

Hey bud. How’s it going? This is your daily, friendly reminder that it wasn’t your fault. No matter what you think, I chose to do that. I chose to save you, because the world really does need you more than it needs me. So don’t waste your life, kid.

Mac jolted awake, Jack’s face fresh in his mind.

Don’t… don’t waste my life? But how am I supposed to live my life without you?

Without you… Mac had a thought. Something Jack used to do...

He sat up in the bed in the infirmary, and quietly unhooked himself from the machines. He put on his clothes as best he could, even with his arm constrained by a stupid sling. The door was locked, but he was Angus MacGyver - a little deadbolt wasn’t going to stop him.

Twenty minutes later, Mac was exactly where he needed to be.

“Hey, bud. How’s it going?” Mac knelt in front of the stone before him, gentling running a finger over the smooth side. “I’m… I’m not doing too good. Ever since you left…”

Mac sat back on his feet, the morning dew soaking his shoelaces and the edges of his pants. He ran a hand through his hair, unsure as to how to continue. His vision slid over a nearby tombstone, and he smiled a bit.

“Hey, Mr. Dalton. You… you sure did a nice job raising your son. A little too good, for my taste. He should be here with me right now, but I-” Mac choked a breath. He scooted closer to Jack’s stone.

“Jack. I know you said it’s not my fault, but-”

“It wasn’t,” said a voice from behind. Riley .

“It wasn’t your fault, and it never has been. It never will be,” she continued, coming to sit beside him. “Jack,” she said, and then, “Papa Dalton,” with a nod to Jack Sr.’s headstone.

“Mac, look. Jack made his own decision, and that decision was to save you .”

“Yeah, he’s way smarter than you give him credit for.” Bozer . “He knew you could get through this, bro. And we know that, too.”

Bozer sat on his other side. Each of his friends put an arm around him, and he almost felt as though Jack would come running up behind them and slam his hands down on Mac’s shoulders, trying to surprise him. It never worked, but maybe this time, it didn’t need to.

Mac took a deep, steadying breath.

“Hey, Jack. I get why you did this now, visiting your dad.” Mac sighed, leaning into his two friends. “It really does help. Almost.”