Chapter Text
Mac still wouldn’t say he was fine, even weeks after finding out about his dad.
Finding out that his dad had been there, the whole time. Finding out that his dad had been watching him, the whole time. Finding out that his dad had been in the same building as him, the whole time. That wasn’t something that Mac could just get over. It wasn’t something that Mac could just forgive. His dad had been there, the whole time. He had- he had been watching Mac, the whole time. He had seen him hurt, and in pain, and in grief, and he hadn’t once said anything. Mac had been a mess, after Nikki, and his dad knew. He knew, and he didn’t do anything. Mac’s dad had been watching him since he left, and he didn’t do anything. He never said anything. He never sent him flowers when he was in the hospital after a mission, and he didn’t even send him birthday cards after he turned eighteen.
It was- Mac couldn’t actually believe it, if he was being honest. What kind of father was willing to jist sit there, in the same building, and not tell his son that he was there? What kind of father was capable of seeing his kid in pain, in danger, and not do anything about it? What kind of father was able to watch his son go through life, get hurt and make friends and fall in love and- and just sit there? Mac just couldn’t believe it. How could his dad have watched everything that Mac had gone through, and not tell him? How could his dad have not known just how much Mac needed him, wanted him, in those moments? How could his dad have just let Mac think that his dad was gone, all those years, when he was right there?
And he could even understand that his dad had wanted to keep him safe, when he was a kid. Mac understood that. Cassian wasn’t even his kid, not really, and Mac wanted to protect him with every single bone in his body. And Cass was away at boarding school most of the time, anyway, to protect him, and he never was told what Murdoc or Mac did for a living. What Mac used to do for a living, anyway. But Mac wasn’t a kid anymore. He was working for Phoenix, dammit. He had been working for the army, and for DXS, and he had been on mission after mission after mission where he could have been killed. So why hadn’t his dad told him, once he had turned 18? Why hadn’t he given Mac the choice to come back into his life? Why hadn’t he talked to Mac? Just once?
There were a lot of questions, swirling through Mac’s head. A lot of unanswered questions.
Mac didn’t want to hate his dad. Mac didn’t hate his dad, actually. He was angry, sure. And maybe he should have hated his dad for this, but he didn’t. Because that was his dad, okay? That was his dad, and he was always going to love him, even now. But it was harder to love him. It was a lot harder to love him, because what the hell? What kind of dad just left their kid like that, and never looked back? Mac had only found out because he had quit Phoenix. If- if he had stayed, then he might have never found out. Ever. And he would have been known the wiser, as his dad stayed in the exact same building as Mac and- And Mac didn’t know how to feel about that. Mac didn’t know how to feel about any of this.
And then there were his friends. Who weren’t helping, just to be clear. They weren’t helping at all.
“No,” Mac said, crossing his arms. “No way.”
Jack groaned. “But Mac-”
“No shooting my father,” Mac said, sternly. Did he seriously have to say this?
“What about a virus?” Riley asked. “Just like one, tiny, identity theft virus?”
“No stealing my father’s identity,” Mac added. Did he really have to add that, too? Seriously?
“Why not?” Bozer asked. “He’s terrible.”
“He’s not- okay, he’s sort of terrible,” Mac admitted, sinking into the couch cushions. “But still!”
“Still what, Mac?” Riley asked. “He hurt you. He lied to you.”
“And he should die,” Jack added with a nod.
“Yeah,” Bozer said. “He should die.”
Mac sighed. “All of you sound like Murdoc.”
“What did he say?” Riley asked.
“He wanted to kill him,” Mac said with a sigh, rubbing his hand down his face.
“This is the one time that I’ll agree with him,” Jack said.
“At least Murdoc agreed to not kill him,” Mac said. “You guys keep forcing this.”
“We’re not forcing anything,” Bozer said.
“We just think your dad should be dead for lying to you and being your boss for years,” Riley said.
“It’s simple,” Jack added.
“No,” Mac said. “It’s not. It’s very, very complicated, in fact.”
“Is it?” Bozer asked, raising an eyebrow. “I remember how upset you were when your dad left, Mac.”
“And he left to protect me,” Mac said. “Because he was a spy. You’re telling me that you would be okay raising a ten year old kid right now?”
“He barely even sent you birthday cards,” Bozer pointed out.
“He was a spy!” Mac cried out. “And he’s- he’s still my dad, okay? He’s my dad and he’s actually back in my life for once and- and my head is still reeling from finding this out. I don’t need you to start talking about killing my dad, too!”
“Okay,” Riley said, in a tone voice that
“Okay?” Mac asked.
“We’ll stop pressing this,” Riley said, calmly. Or maybe she was trying to calm Mac down. He didn’t really know. Or care to know.
“Like hell we will,” Jack said.
“Yeah,” Bozer said. “We can’t just stop talking about this. His dad sucks.”
“He knows his dad sucks,” Riley said. “He knows more than we do! So let him make this choice, okay?”
Jack grumbled. “Well when you put it like that-” he said, cutting himself off. “Fine.”
“Yeah,” Boze said. “Yeah, okay.”
“Thank you,” Mac said. He let out a shaky breath. “Just- thank you.”
“Yeah, yeah, man,” Jack said. “But if you ever change your mind-”
Mac laughed. “I’ll be sure to tell you. But you might have to fight Murdoc for the honour.”
“We could tag team it,” Jack said. “Do a whole Murder on the Orient express thing?”
“You’ve read Agatha Christie?” Riley asked.
“The movie, obviously,” Jack said.
“The 2017 one?” Bozer asked.
Jack’s face scrunched up. “There’s more than one?”
“Yes!” Bozer screeched. “Obviously there’s more than one. There’s the 2017 movie that just came out, with Kenneth Brannagh and Johnny Depp and so many other big actors. There’s the 1974 one, with Albert Finney. And there’s the 2010 tv version, which was- well, it was weird.”
Mac smiled lightly, relaxing into the couch. He let Bozer and Jack’s bickering wash over him, a smile on his face. It was nice to have something so familiar, even if his whole world was sort of turned upside down on its head. It was nice to know that some things would stay the same, even if so much had changed. It was nice to know that even with his dad, even with Murdoc, even with everything, he still had his friends. He still had this closeness. He still had Bozer bringing up random movie knowledge, and Jack being overly annoyed by everything, and Riley threatening to hack somebody whenever they insulted her. It was fun and it was nice and it was calming and it was all just so damn familiar.
At least one thing was familiar, in all of this. At least one thing was comforting, in all of this. At least one thing was simple, in all of this.
Because nothing else was. His dad, well, his dad was an asshole. Mac could admit that quickly enough. He shouldn’t have done what he did, Mac knew that. But it wasn’t simple by any means. Because, well, his dad had been trying to protect Mac. He had been trying to help Mac, in his own weird way. And even if Mac wished that he had done it differently, that- that was his dad. That was his dad, and he was trying to help Mac. That was his dad, and he loved Mac, in his own weird sort of way. And as much as Mac tried, he loved his dad back. Even after all of this, he loved his dad.
Still, his dad had let slip that he had been covering for Mac, keeping him employed, meddling in his life. And Mac- Mac didn’t even know how to start to dissect that. Mac had known that he had been, well, a bit reckless when it came to befriending Murdoc. When it came t o dating Murdoc. He knew that Phoenix wouldn’t like it. But- but the fact that he would have been fired, or more likely, arrested, if not for his dad, that didn’t sit right with Mac. Not even the idea that Matty would have arrested him, even. But the idea that Mac should have faced consequences, and didn’t, all because his dad was the boss. And, yeah, it was nice not being in jail, but Murdoc would have broken him out anyway. It was just- it was weird.
And then there was the fact that he had left Phoenix. Mac had actually left Phoenix. That was kind of crazy in its own right, actually. In all his years, Mac had never thought about leaving Phoenix. Or DXS. Even when Nikki had died, or when he thought that Nikki had died, anyway, Mac hadn’t ever actually thought about leaving DXS. It had been the thing to keep him going, more than anything. Hell, he hadn’t even thought about leaving the army, when he had been there. He had been happy, serving his country. He had been happy to die for his country. Now- well, now Mac had started to think that maybe he had never been serving his country. Because if his dad was willing to lie to him, to hide from him, to pull strings behind the scenes, then who else was willing to do that, too?
It was just- well, Mac’s life was sort of a mess. It was like his life was just sort of crumbling down around him, or something.
He didn’t exactly know what to do with himself, now that he wasn’t working at Phoenix. Mac sorta thrived on the puzzles that working as a spy gave him. He had always found medical leave terrible, and now he couldn’t even placate himself with the idea of going back in a few weeks. Because he wasn’t going back. He didn’t want to go back, not really. It was nice knowing where he was going to be, tomorrow, and the day after that, and the week after that. It was nice not being randomly carted off to a new continent without any notice. It was nice not being shot at, and kidnapped, and blown up. It was nice not having the weight of the world on his shoulders. It was nice having actual free time for once. But, well, there was such a thing as too much freetime, Mac was finding out.
He didn’t exactly know what to do with himself, now that Murdoc was still working and he wasn’t. Even though Murdoc had been working less and less, these days. It was still weird, though. There were stretches of time when Murdoc was just gone for days. And Mac- Mac knew what he was doing, when he was gone. Mac knew what Murdoc was doing, when Mac was gone. But he couldn’t bring himself to really care, after all this time. He had come to terms with what Murdoc did for a living. Now, the only real issue was that Mac wasn’t doing anything, and Murdoc was. It wasn’t like Mac wanted to be an assassin, no thank you, he just wanted to do something. Anything.
He didn’t exactly know what to do with himself, with his friends working, too. Because they were gone even more than Murdoc was, with just how much Phoenix needed their help. They didn’t get vacations, and they barely had down time between missions. Mac was used to that, when he had been working. But now they were gone all the time, and Mac was just left at home, with nothing to do, while they still worked at Phoenix. His friends had asked him if he had wanted them all to quit, too. They had offered. But that- that would have been crazy to ask of them, it really would have been. Just because Mac couldn’t work at Phoenix anymore didn’t mean that they should have to quit, even with the revelation that his dad was there. No, Mac couldn’t ask that of them. So he didn’t ask. And they kept working, and kept leaving Mac alone.
But Mac managed. Or, he tried to manage, anyway.
There were things for him to do of course. He fixed his coffee maker. And the clock in his bedroom. And the clock in Bozer’s bedroom. He fixed his gate. And his neighbour’s gate. And every single gate in the neighbourhood. Because seriously, who made their gates like that? They were flimsy. He spent a day learning how to juggle, and a week learning how to build puppets. He learned origami and tap dancing and bread making and everything else that he could learn. His house became a factory and a workshop and a bakery and a mechanic’s and every single thing on the planet. And yet, nothing actually settled Mac. He just moved on from interest, to interest, to interest, and he was never able to actually settle down. It was- it was distracting him, sure, but he wasn’t doing anything. Well, anything except making a mess of his house, anyway.
Mac thought about getting a job. But, well, his skillset wasn’t exactly that useful for anything besides spying. He could fix things, sure, but it was always, well, out of junk. And not a lot of jobs wanted you to make stuff out of junk, instead of the proper way. Mac didn’t know how to fix a vacuum with the proper tools, or change the battery in a truck while having access to another battery. And even if he could have gotten one of those jobs, it wouldn’t have done anything. Solving the same problem over and over again wasn’t interesting. It wasn’t fun. It didn’t scratch that itch in Mac’s brain. He needed something interesting to do. He needed something novel to do. He needed something, anything, to do. But instead, Mac had nothing to do.
And when Mac had nothing to do, it meant that his brain started buzzing. And buzzing. And buzzing. His head was a swirling mess of everything that he could have done wrong. Should he have quit Phoenix? Should he have quit Phoenix earlier? Should he have ever let Murdoc, who he knew was a killer, be his friend, and later his boyfriend? Okay, that one was stupid, of course he should have. But Mac doubted that anybody else thought that way, not really. Should he have taken Murdoc up on his joking offer and started assassinating people, too? Okay, probably not. Should Mac have decided to become a modern day Robin Hood, instead of just sitting around all day? Maybe, but he still could do that. Should Mac have been able to guess that his dad had been there, the whole time? No, no that wasn’t on Mac. Should Mac have been more mad at his dad? Probably. Mac just- he had a lot of thoughts, whenever he wasn’t trying some new thing or finding a random object to fix.
It was a lot easier when his friends were there, Mac had to admit. A lot easier.
There was still a lot of time when Mac had to be alone, of course. And during those times he had come up with a lot of ways to bide his times and not go completely crazy. Slightly crazy, yeah, but not completely crazy. Not yet, anyway. Right now, Mac was working on making his own train set, out of just whatever junk and materials he had lying around the house. It was fun, and interesting, and most importantly of all, let him shut off his brain for a bit. He wasn’t actually building anything at the moment, just drawing out some of the plans. He’d only decided to do this that same morning, after all. He had a dozen drawings laid out on the coffee table, and a couple books covering him on the couch. He was so lost in reading that he didn’t even notice when the door opened. And then suddenly Bozer was walking into the house, a backpack slung over his shoulder. He sighed, a tired look on his face.
“Hey, man,” Mac said, looking up from his book on miniature trains. “You look like crap.”
“It’s been a long three days,” Bozer said with a groan. “A long three days.”
“You wanna go sleep?” Mac asked.
Bozer’s face scrunched up in confusion. “What time is it here?”
“Like three, or something,” Mac said. He hadn’t actually looked at a clock in a while, but it was probably somewhere around there. “Why?”
“I’m not sleeping at three, man,” Bozer said.
“Time zones are no joke, Boze,” Mac lectured. “Go nap.”
“I don’t need to nap,” Bozer said, stubbornly.
“Boze,” Mac said, raising his eyebrows accusingly.
“I’m fine, Mac,” Bozer said.
“Go sleep it off,” Mac said.
Bozer sighed, sinking down on the couch wearily. “I’m worried about leaving you alone, man.”
“I’ll be fine,” Mac said. “Look, I’ve got a whole new project and everything. Don’t worry!”
“Tell me what you’re working on,” Boze said.
“After you go nap,” Mac said with a laugh.
“I’ll nap right after you tell me what the hell is on our coffee table, man,” Bozer said. “Are these- are these sketches of trains?”
“You’ll nap after I tell you about my project?” Mac asked.
“Right after,” Bozer promised. “I just need to unwind a bit.”
“Fine,” Mac said, smiling as Bozer got a little less tense, leaning up close next to Mac. “So miniature trains move because there’s electricity in the rails. And the electricity goes into the motor, powering that. So I want to make my own using the wire I took from-”
Mac paused. Bozer was snoring, his head leaning on top of Mac’s shoulder. And Mac smiled.
And it wasn’t just Boze, either. Him working in the lab, on robots and cosmetics and anything else Phoenix could ever possibly need, meant that even when he was done with missions, he had even more work to do. And he wanted to spend time with Leanna, which, yeah Mac thought that that was fair. Mac had an evil serial killer boyfriend who practically lived at Mac and Bozer’s, Boze could have his own super secret spy girlfriend. But it meant that he wasn't around as much, even excluding the whole spy mission thing. But Jack and Riley had taken to coming over whenever they had free time. Or, in Jack’s case, whenever he wanted to annoy Mac.
“What is this?” Mac asked with a raised eyebrow.
“It’s Guitar Hero!” Jack said proudly.
“You let him bring Guitar Hero?” Mac asked, glaring at Riley.
“I didn’t know!” Riley cried. “I’m not complicit in this.”
“Aw, come on,” Jack groaned. “What’s wrong with Guitar Hero?”
“You nearly broke my tv the last time we played,” Mac reminded him.
“And you did break my tv, when we played at my place,” Riley added. “You get a little competitive.”
“Dangerously, overwhelmingly, competitive,” Mac corrected.
“Yeah,” Riley said. “That.”
“I don’t get that bad,” Jack said. “I just like the music!”
Mac grinned. “If you want music, then I know just the game to play.”
“Guitar Hero,” Jack said. “We’re playing Guitar Hero.”
“No way,” Riley said. “We are not playing Guitar Hero again. My wall had a hole in it!”
“There’s no way I’m letting you put a hole in my wall. We’re playing something way better,” Mac declared, rifling through his video games. He retrieved a case, grinning.
“Oh no,” Jack said, as he read the case. “No way.”
“Yes way,” Riley and Mac said at the same time.
Mac put the game in. “There we go,” he said, as Just Dance began to appear on his tv.
It was fun, Mac had to admit. Or, okay, it was mostly fun. Jack kept choosing the weirdest songs, which Mac probably should have expected. But still. Mac did not want to do Just Dance to dad rock. Or any sort of rock. He wanted to do it to songs from Camp Rock, as was Mac’s right. Even though Mac had never actually watched Camp Rock. Bozer kept trying to get him to watch it, but they just hadn’t gotten to it. But the songs slapped, and the dances were way more fun than all the ones that Jack chose, so, yeah, Camp Rock supremacy. Even though some of the songs Jack chose weren’t the worst. Whatever. It was better than being alone, at the very least.
Jack still wound up putting a hole in Mac’s wall. Dammit.
Murdoc was there, too, whenever he could. Which was a lot of the time, honestly. Cass was away at boarding school, so he didn’t have a kid to take care of. He had a lot less constraints with his job, too, considering he chose which jobs he did, and when he did them. And these days, Murdoc didn’t seem to want to take that many jobs. Not when hanging out with Mac was an option, at least. Which, Mac had to admit, was definitely a plus for him. It meant more time with his boyfriend. It meant more time with another human period. It meant time away from his busy, overwhelming thoughts. Mac was a little bit spiralling, at the moment, because of those thoughts.
And that was when Murdoc walked inside, using his own key.
“Boy scout!” Murdoc called, a bright grin on his face. “You have a package!”
Mac frowned. “What?” He hadn’t been expecting anything. And for Murdoc to be that excited, it definitely wasn’t a bill or anything.
“A package!” Murdoc declared.
“And why do I have a package?” Mac asked.
“Clearly because somebody decided to send you one,” Murdoc said.
“And that person was you?” Mac asked.
“No,” Murdoc said.
Mac frowned. “Then who was it?”
“Cassian,” Murdoc said, easily.
“And why would Cassian send me a package?” Mac asked, even if he was smiling. And barely restraining himself from grabbing the package out of Murdoc’s hands.
“A little birdie may have told him that his Mac was sad,” Murdoc said.
Mac laughed. “And was that little birdie covered in leather?”
“Maybe,” Murdoc said with a grin.
“Give it here,” Mac said. He was out of patience, now. “I want to see what my favourite person gave me.”
Murdoc frowned dramatically, holding the package even further away from Mac. “I’m not your favourite person?”
“You didn’t get me a present,” Mac said petulantly.
“What do you call that box of chocolates I gave you yesterday?” Murdoc asked.
“A bribe,” Mac said. “That was a bribe.”
“It was a present!” Murdoc claimed.
“You only bought me them so I would go and see that fancy gallery thing with you,” Mac pointed out. “That’s the literal definition of a bribe.”
“Wow,” Murdoc said. “What can I give you to make me your favourite person again?”
Mac laughed. “That’s still a bribe, Murdoc.”
“Whatever,” Murdoc said, still frowning. “I suppose you can have the package anyway.”
“You know withholding my mail would have been a federal offence,” Mac said, as he took the box. “I could have arrested you, you know.”
“Not so fast, boy scout,” Murdoc cooed. “You’re not a government agent anymore. And I’m already a criminal. Besides this wasn’t addressed to you, so technically it’s not a crime. It didn’t even go through the actual postal system.”
Mac frowned. “How did it get here from Cassian’s boarding school, then?”
“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to,” Murdoc said.
Mac had had enough of this. He tore the tape of the box. “Aw,” he cooed, as he pulled out a card. “He’s getting to be a good artist, you know.”
“He is,” Murdoc said, beaming with pride.
Mac wound up surrounded by presents. Drawings and candy and trinkets galore. There was so much stuff in the box that Mac began to wonder how Cass had managed to pack it all in there. Mac’s heart warmed by the drawing of Mac, Cass, and Murdoc all together, hugging. And at the actual absurd amount of candy in the box. There was a puzzle, too. And a book of Swedish brainteasers, which meant Mac was going to have to brush up on his Swedish. Neat. And, sitting on the bottom of the box, was a stuffed animal of a raccoon. Wearing a boy scout uniform. Because of course it was.
“Thank you for this, Murdoc,” Mac said. He knew that there was a stupid smile on his face, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.
“It wasn’t me who got you all this, boy scout,” Murdoc said.
Mac rolled his eyes. “You really think Cass got the idea to buy me all this stuff all on his own? And that Cass had the money?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Murdoc said, dramatically crossing his arms.
“Murdoc,” Mac warned.
“Fine,” Murdoc admitted. “I may have had a small part to play in all this.”
“Thank you,” Mac said, giving Murdoc a tight hug. “And make sure Cass knows I say thank you to him, too. He really went all out.”
Murdoc grinned. “Of course, Macgyver.”
Yeah, Mac thought, he was definitely doing okay. Maybe not perfect, but okay. And that was perfectly okay with him.