MacGyver and Bozer sat with their feet dangling over the edge of the tree house they had built when they were in middle school.

They hadn't seen that much of each other in the past two years, being as how Mac had been living in Cambridge, Massachusetts and Bozer had remained in Mission City to finish High School. So they had spent the day together, just hanging out and catching up on each other's lives. After all it was something of a transitional night for them both, and the choices they made from this moment on would define their futures.

"So what's next, Mac?" Bozer asked. "Now that you did four years of MIT in two, with double majors no less, while I muddled through graduating high school, are you going to take NASA up on their offer and go build space ships?" To be honest, Bozer was a bit jealous of the fact that his best friend had NASA knocking on his door. Not that he wanted to go build Rocket Ships because his interest lay, firmly, in film-making. But how cool was it that NASA was practically begging his friend to work for them?

"Actually, I enlisted in the Army," MacGyver blurted out.

Bozer was beyond shocked and he turned to stare at his friend with eyes blown wide with astonishment. "Say what? Why? What the hell, Mac? You're eighteen years old and one of the smartest people in the world and you go and enlist in the Army?" Bozer shook his head. "That doesn't even make sense." MacGyver could seriously go anywhere, do anything. He was so damn smart that it sometimes actually freaked Bozer out a little bit. So why would he throw it all away to join the Army?

Wincing, MacGyver gripped his friend by the shoulders and shook him gently. "Take a deep breath, Boze. It's not a big deal."

"It is a big deal!" Bozer insisted. "It's like a brilliant pianist turning their back on their gift and going to work in a donut shop."

"I'm not going in as a regular soldier, Bozer," MacGyver countered, hoping that his best friend would accept that and move on. "I was recruited." He dropped his hands into his lap and waited for a reaction.

Bozer managed to keep his cool this time, but he still didn't see the point. "Recruited to do what?" he prompted.

MacGyver sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. "Actually...that part is classified."

"Classified...as in Top Secret and probably dangerous?" Bozer didn't like that idea any better.

"Classified as in official Government stuff I can't talk about," Mac clarified, hoping that his friend would be satisfied with that explanation.

Not surprisingly, Bozer wasn't satisfied in the least. "Why the Army, Mac?" he demanded. NASA wants you. Hell, over a dozen top braniac places, that I've never even heard of, have been wooing you since high school. Why not pick one of them? Why the Army? Please explain it to me, because I really don't get it."

Scrubbing a hand over his face, MacGyver heaved a sigh then took a moment to sort out the best way to explain it without giving too much away. Ultimately he decided to go with as much of the truth as he could get away with. "Honestly, Boze...it's pretty simple. I can do a lot of good in the Army, help a lot of people. You know that's what I've always wanted to do."

"Yeah, I know," Bozer conceded. "So...you're going to be locked up in some top secret laboratory somewhere where you'll be safe. Right?"

"Something like that," MacGyver countered, dropping his eyes because he couldn't look at his friend while fibbing. He wouldn't let himself acknowledge that it was a straight out lie, even if it was a lie of necessity. He didn't think Bozer would be cool with him learning how to disarm bombs and travelling throughout Iraq and Afghanistan doing just that. So it was time for a distraction. "Come on, Boze. There's something I want to show you."

Bozer was surprised when Mac started climbing back down the ladder. He leaned over to shout, "Where are we going?"

MacGyver grinned up at him. "You'll see, it's a surprise." He waved at him to join him. "Come on, let's go. It's a bit of a drive."

"Is it a good surprise, at least?" Bozer queried, as he joined MacGyver and they headed for the car.

"I think so," Mac allowed, as he slid behind the wheel.

Bozer took his place in the passenger seat. "Are you sure you can't at least tell me where we're going?"

Mac considered then relented. "We're heading to LA."

"What's in LA?" Bozer figured it couldn't hurt to push his luck and try to get more information out of his friend.

"You'll see," Mac countered, laughing, and they spent the next few hours chatting about Bozer's college options and possible majors and the like. It felt like old times between them and MacGyver relished every minute of it, because he knew that his life was going to change soon. Not that he didn't embrace change, because he was looking forward to the challenges his new life was going to bring. At the same time, he knew he needed a safe haven and he was hoping that Bozer would continue to be the one person who could keep Mac grounded. Which brought them back around to what he wanted to show his friend.

Bozer was staring out his window, eyes wide as they drove up a winding road and turned onto what looked like a driveway, before pulling up in front of a cool looking house. "Wow...what a cool place. Let me guess, somebody famous lives here and you just happen to know them. Who is it?"

Mac shut the car off and gestured for Bozer to get out. "Trust me, nobody famous lives here," he stated, leading the way to the front door. He pulled a key out of his pocket and opened it before nudging Bozer inside. "So...what do you think?"

"I think we shouldn't be breaking in to someone's house," Bozer replied, even as he turned in a circle to stare about in amazement.

"I didn't break in, I used the key," MacGyver reminded him. He pointed to the kitchen, knowing that his friend wouldn't be able to resist it. Sure enough, Bozer shouldered Mac out of the way before waxing rapturously about the oven and the chopping block island and all the counter space.

After exploring the kitchen, Bozer noticed the door leading out to the deck with a fabulous fire pit and he made his way out there, feeling like he was in a dream. "Who lives here?" he asked, when Mac joined him by the railing.

Locking eyes with his friend, Mac replied, "I do. You could too, if you want."

"Wait...what?" Bozer stared at MacGyver in disbelief. "This is your house? Since when?"

"I closed yesterday," Mac confessed. It had actually been a rather terrifying moment when he realized he had actually made the commitment to owning a house at the age of eighteen.

Realization hit Bozer like a slap in the face. "That's where you went to when you said you couldn't make it to the movies last night."

Mac nodded. "Yep. So...what do you think? Want to be roomies? There are two master suites at opposite ends of the house, so we'd each have our own space."

"I would love to, man!" Bozer enthused, but then his face fell. "Thing is, I'm not going to be able to pay my half of the rent...so to speak. I mean, I'm going to get a part time job after classes and all, but no way am I going to make enough to cover my share."

"You don't need to worry about that," MacGyver insisted. "I'm going to be gone a lot so I'm going to need someone here to take care of things, so I'm not worried about rent or anything. To be honest, I'm hoping I won't have to come back to an empty house." Mac didn't know how else to explain it so he hoped Bozer understood.

Realizing exactly what Mac was asking, Bozer didn't hesitate to reply. "I'd be happy to live here, dude! This is incredible!" He pulled MacGyver into a bear hug before breaking away to head back inside. "So where's my room?"

Smiling, Mac led his friend down the short hallway and into a spacious room with a connecting bath. "You like it?"

"Totally awesome." Bozer bounced on the king-sized bed. "I know MIT pretty much paid you to go there, but how the heck can you afford this place?"

"The money my mom left me when she died, my Grandfather invested it for me," Mac replied, feeling a wave of sadness wash over him, but he shrugged it off and continued. "He turned it over to me when I was sixteen and I invested it more aggressively, plus I did some freelance work while I was at MIT, so I was able to get this place and still have money in the bank."

Bozer was beyond impressed, in more ways than one. "When did you have time to freelance? You did like 6 years of course work in two." Which wasn't an exaggeration. Sometimes it freaked Bozer out a bit, just how smart Mac was.

MacGyver shrugged. "I'm pretty good at multi-tasking," he drawled, before shifting the focus off himself. "So when would you like to move in?"

"Now?" Bozer felt giddy with excitement.

"We should probably pack up some of your clothes and things before you officially move in," Mac countered, reasonably, but he was happy that Bozer was so excited. "Feel free to change the paint color in your room and decorate however you like."

Bozer continued exploring, with MacGyver trailing along behind him. "Looks to me like you need to get busy decorating as well. Like a couch in the livingroom would be nice. Maybe a coffee table...some bookshelves."

MacGyver had some things he had inherited from his Grandfather, most of which he intended to keep in his own bedroom, but Bozer was right. Other than beds, there wasn't much furniture in the place. "I hadn't thought that far ahead," Mac confessed, and furniture buying was a bit out of his wheelhouse.

"I can help you with that, no problem," Bozer assured him. "I'm going to take some pictures and text them to my mom. She's going to freak out."

"Are you sure they'll be okay with you living here?" Mac hadn't really thought to ask that question before now.

Bozer stopped picture taking to stare at MacGyver as if he had suddenly developed two heads. "Are you kidding me? You know I'm going to film-making school here in LA. My parents have been reduced to asking my Aunt Letty if I can live with her while I'm in school, being as she's the only relative who lives here. You remember Aunt Letty, don't you, Mac? Dresses like a hippie and loves to pinch cheeks?"

Mac remembered her all too well, one hand lifting to cup his face in memory of the first time he'd met her. She was a lovely woman, to be sure, but she did have something of an addiction to cheek-pinching. Still, he couldn't resist teasing his best friend. "Gee, I don't know, Bozer. I really would hate to make you choose between living with Aunt Letty or here with me."

"Funny." Bozer scowled at his friend, before making his way back out on the deck. He wanted to take a picture of the pool below to show his mom. "You know my parents love you, Mac. They'll be thrilled that we're roomies. Just breaking to my mom...gently...that you're enlisting in the Army."

"Yeah...I'm not looking forward to that conversation," Mac admitted. He had lived with Bozer's family for a time and Emily Bozer was like a *mom* to him in many ways. Mac knew that her baby brother, John, had died overseas during a tour in Iraq six years ago. "We should get going, it's a long drive back."

Bozer nodded, trailing Mac this time as his friend closed up the house and locked the door. "This is going to be epic, bro!"

Mac shoulder-bumped his friend. "Yeah...it will be."

And it was in many ways, for the first few months, until Mac went overseas for the first time to do his job, disarming bombs as an EOD tech. He was gone for two months, only to return with his left arm in a sling.

Bozer had been horrified, treating MacGyver with kid-gloves and hovering constantly.

It had been hard on Mac having to lie and tell him that he'd been in a car accident, because Bozer believed MacGyver was working in some secret government, underground lab and Mac didn't have it in him to tell him what he really did. He knew that there was no way he could explain to his best friend that his *job* was disarming bombs in the Middle East.

The second time Mac came home, hurt, Bozer had handled it a bit better. The third time was for the Holidays and his CO had insisted he go home to de-stress for a week, so that had been easy. That's when they had started their Holiday tradition of celebrating on Christmas Eve before Bozer headed back home to Mission City to be with his family. Left on his own, Mac had slept a lot when he wasn't running or hiking, until Bozer had returned and they'd hung out for two days before Mac had to go back to work.

The fourth time Mac came home on crutches, having *fallen down a flight of stairs at work*, which was when Bozer started calling him a klutz.

The fifth time was a hard one. MacGyver had been caught in an explosion, suffering cracked ribs and a concussion which had kept him in an Army Base hospital for two days before being sent home. When Mac stepped off the plane, moving very slowly and carefully, he headed outside to catch a cab only to find Bozer waiting for him.

"What are you doing here?" Mac asked, unable to hide his surprise. He had just called Bozer last night to tell him he would arriving home today, for two weeks, after an accident.

"I couldn't shake the feeling that something bad had happened to you," Bozer replied. After giving Mac the once over he shook his head. "Look at you. You're pale and bruised and cut up and you're moving like an old man. What the hell is going on, Mac? Why do you keep getting hurt? You work in a damn lab!"

MacGyver knew it was time to tell Bozer the truth about what he really did, but not here, because it was not going to be an easy conversation. First he had to calm his friend down. "Take it easy, Boze. I'm okay, I really am, but we do need to talk. Just...not here. Can we go home?"

The plea, made with a tired tone, cut through Bozer's anger. He could see that Mac was tired and hurting and he needed to get him home where he could rest. Everything else could wait. "Of course," Bozer replied, reaching for Mac's duffle bag. "I'm parked close by, let's go home." They would have their talk, but not until Mac was feeling better.

The drive home was made in silence broken only by the radio. Mac was focused on figuring out how to tell Bozer the truth, and Bozer was busy trying to ease both his anger and his concern over his friend. Once they were home and inside, Bozer tried to get Mac to go to bed and rest, but Mac insisted on going outside to sit by the fire pit.

Bozer didn't like it, but he lit the fire then settled down in the chair next to his friend to watch the flickering flames. He tried to be patient and wait for Mac to start talking, but patience wasn't even close to being one of his virtues. So he moved from his chair to the edge of the fire pit in front of his best friend. "Mac...what's going on? Please talk to me."

"Before I tell you what I have to tell you, you have to promise me that you won't flip out," Mac countered, because he was too tired and worn out to deal with a freaked out Bozer.

"Are you kidding me?" Bozer shot back, eyes wide in disbelief. "That you feel the need to make me promise not to flip out means that what you have to tell me is totally going to flip me out! Which means it's something bad. Something really really bad." Bozer shot up and began pacing as worst case scenarios began flashing through his mind.

Mac realized he had messed up by starting with what amounted to a warning of bad news to come. Not that he considered what he had to say as bad news, it was just going to be extremely surprising and unexpected. Which meant that his best bet right now was to just blurt it out, rather like yanking a bandage off rather than peeling it off slowly in the hopes that it would hurt less. So Mac took a deep, careful, breath before exhaling slowly, then called out sharply, "Bozer!"

The sound of his name got Bozer's attention and he stopped ranting and pacing and moved to confront his best friend. "What?"

"Sit down," Mac gestured. It hurt staring up at him.

"I'm sitting," Bozer said, as he planted himself on the fire pit edge.

Mac sighed, stared down at his hands as he contemplated the best way to explain, then decided the simple truth would be the way to go. So he cleared his throat then blurted out, "I disarm bombs for a living."

Bozer heard the words but he was pretty sure he had misunderstood them. "Uh...could you say that again?"

"I disarm bombs for the military," Mac, obediently repeated, then he waited for the figurative explosion to go off.

"You disarm bombs," Bozer echoed, almost too softly to be heard. He let the words dance in his head for a long moment, then he looked MacGyver in the eye and stated, "That explains a lot."

MacGyver didn't hide his confusion at Bozer's words or his subdued reaction. "What do you mean?" he countered.

Bozer shrugged. "It explains you getting hurt so much. If you got injured like you have in a lab, that's worrisome to me. We both know you're not a klutz, so I was really becoming concerned that maybe someone was beating you up or something."

"Really?" Mac was surprised to hear that.

"Yeah...really. Remember back in middle school, how Donnie beat you up twice after school and you hid it from me? From everyone. I was seriously beginning to think someone was hurting you and you didn't trust me enough to tell me." Scrubbing a hand over his face, Bozer resisted the urge to exhale an exasperated sigh. "That said...I'm not happy that you lied to me."

MacGyver winced even though he had been ready for that accusation. "Technically I never actually said I was going to work in a lab, you just assumed that's what I was doing."

Bozer couldn't argue that, but he had a comeback. "And you let me assume it, so that's lying by omission."

"True enough," Mac replied. "I'm sorry, Bozer. I just...I didn't want you to worry about me."

"I'm your best friend," Bozer shot back. "Worrying about you comes with the territory, especially if you're disarming freaking bombs!" He jumped up and started pacing again because he wasn't sure how to handle this truth. He didn't know if he was angry, scared or just plain worried. "Why this? Why do you have to disarm bombs? You're the smartest person I've ever met and you could be doing anything. So explain it to me, in a way that makes me understand, why you have to disarm bombs."

MacGyver appreciated the fact that he had thrown his friend for a loop, but he wasn't sure he could explain. Still, for Bozer's sake, he would try. "You know how, ever since I've known you, you've had a calling to make films? At Bozer's nod Mac continued. "That's kind of how I feel about what I do. You know that being me wasn't exactly easy in school, and sometimes I still struggle with the fact that my brain seems to be wired differently than everyone elses. I loved MIT because I finally felt as if I fit in somewhere, but being there didn't help me figure out what I wanted to do with my life. But this feels right, Bozer. I'm good at disarming bombs and it saves lives, innocent lives and the lives of our soldiers. What I do is important to me, because it makes me feel like I have a purpose. Like this is what I was meant to do."

Bozer couldn't wrap his head around that. "So for the rest of what is probably going to be a - very short - life, you're going to disarm bombs?"

"Probably not my entire life," MacGyver replied, firmly. "Just for right now." When Bozer didn't respond, Mac gingerly got to his feet and went over to his best friend, placing a careful hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Boze...are we okay?"

"Of course we're okay, Mac." Bozer turned to see how pale his friend was and that the hand on his shoulder was trembling. It hit him then how hard this had been for Mac, in so many ways, and his anger fled. "There is nothing that could happen, nothing you could ever do or say, that would ever come between us." As he spoke, Bozer started guiding Mac back into the house and into his bedroom. His friend was exhausted and hurting and Bozer was going to make sure he rested and healed.

MacGyver let Bozer guide him into his room because he knew he'd run out of steam and needed to rest. At the same time he felt content that things between him and Bozer were good, and that his best friend understood why he did what he did. With that thought in mind, Mac stretched out on his bed and drifted off to sleep.

Two weeks later, when MacGyver went back to work, Bozer smiled as he dropped him off at the airport but he couldn't hide the worry shining from his eyes. Still, the both of them were in a good place and it was a relief being able to talk to Bozer about his work, more or less.

So the next few months went by fast and things were good, or as good as they could be when you diffused bombs for a living in a war zone. However, everything came screeching to a halt when MacGyver's CO, trainer and friend, Alfred Pena, died in an explosion.

Mac didn't even have time to process it at first, because the work he did still needed to be done. So he compartmentalized it and moved on. Three weeks later he got sent to another unit where he met Jack Dalton and his life changed in a way he hadn't imagined it would.

A representative from a secret Government Agency had recruited Mac and Jack had jumped on board and now he would be using his unique skill-set to save people world wide. It would be a good change and Mac was looking forward to it, but first he was being sent home to take a few weeks to decompress and readjust.

It was good to be home and when he walked into the house, it was to find Bozer dancing and singing while making dinner. Mac found himself smiling as he watched his friend, then laughing when Bozer turned around and spotted him, his singing turning into squawking before Mac found himself with an armful of Bozer.

"Mac!" Bozer exclaimed, pounding him on the back only to freeze and pull away in horror. "Oh my God! You aren't broken are you? Did I break you more? I'm so sorry!"

"I'm fine, Bozer!" Mac assured him. "No injuries."

Bozer was glad to hear it. "Then why are you here? Is everything okay?"

Mac nodded, firmly putting all thoughts of Alfred Pena aside. It had been over eight months and he needed to let that go. "Yeah, everything is great. I'm actually home because I did my time, so I'm hanging up my fatigues and moving on to something else."

"Seriously?" Bozer was cautious about getting too excited until he was positive it was true. "So you're done with the Army for real?"

"I'm done with the Army," Mac confirmed.

Bozer pulled his friend over to sit at the counter while he continued making dinner. He always made himself enough for two days so he had plenty for Mac. "You hungry?" he asked, as he continued seasoning his chicken.

Mac wasn't but he nodded anyway. "Sure, I could eat."

"I'm making my famous barbecue chicken and my Mom's macaroni salad," Bozer replied.

"Sounds good." MacGyver wished he could show more enthusiasm, because Bozer was a great cook, but all he felt was listless. He had a month of time to kill with nothing to do but be wrapped up in his thoughts. He wasn't looking forward to that. Mac liked being busy because it served as a disctraction to allow him to control his, always whirring, thoughts.

Bozer finished what he was doing, including putting the chicken on the grill, before turning to face his friend. MacGyver had joined him outside, but he stood by the railing looking lost. "Are you okay?" Bozer asked, as he joined him.

MacGyver nodded. "I'm good." He saw the worry shining in his friend's dark eyes and was quick to reassure him, again. It's just very different being here. I feel like I've stepped into a different world. No sand, no bombs, no soldiers and fighting." No Pena. Eight months later and Mac still felt hollow insided. "It almost too quiet."

"I bet it is," Bozer allowed. "So what's next for you?"

"I've been recruited by a Think Tank," MacGyver replied, which was a lie but not a complete lie because the DXS complex actually did have labs and did do research, and all the kinds of things he had done at MIT.

Bozer was thrilled. "So a Think Tank is way safer than disarming bombs in the Middle East. That's great, Mac! Are you excited?" He asked because his friend looked anything but. Mac looked exhausted and sad and that worried Bozer.

Mac nodded. "I am excited, just a bit jet lagged."

"So you'll be home now," Bozer continued.

"More or less," Mac replied. "There will still be travel involved, working with other researchers and such. In a way I'll be like a troubleshooter, going where I'm needed."

Bozer was thrilled for his friend. "That sounds like it's right up your alley." He moved to check on the chicken and he was smiling as he announced, "Dinner will be served in about twenty minutes. Why don't you go drop your bag in your room and wash up.

"Yes, Mom," Mac drawled, ducking the over mitt Bozer threw at him.

"Would you bring me out a soda when you come back?" Bozer requested. He watched Mac head back inside and called out, "I'm so glad you're home, man! We're gonna have so much fun!"

Mac smiled, glad to see how happy Bozer was that he would be around more and not disarming bombs. Sure he had to go back to keeping things from his best friend, but MacGyver could live with that.

Grabbing his duffle bag, Mac headed for his room and dropped it on the bed before sitting down and taking a minute to exhale. After a moment a smile curved his lips. It felt a bit strange being back, but in a good way. It was time to move on to the next great adventure. Standing up he went out to the kitchen to grab two sodas, then returned to the deck to listen to Bozer rambling about how there was a specific way to flip a chicken breast on the grill.

It was good to be home.

THE END