AN: Hi everyone! This is earlier than I thought it would be, but I don't think there'll be any complaints there! The first section of this is directly lifted from my season finale episode tag, Emergency Repairs. If you've read that and want to get straight to the new stuff, just scroll down to the first scene on the Phoenix jet.
MACGYVER'S RESIDENCE
(MACGYVER THE YOUNGER'S RESIDENCE)
(SINCE THE DIY DOESN'T MAKE IT OBVIOUS)
LA
'Mac, come on, son! We got those amazing burgers you used to, like, write sonnets about when we were in the Sandbox! And we got pie, apple pie, your favourite! And Ri's just dropped in and she brought rocky road ice-cream, I know you can never resist that…'
Jack banged ineffectually on Mac's bedroom door, then tried to no avail to turn the doorknob.
(He knew that he'd never get through a door that Mac had locked, but he knew it was important to try. Important to show his partner that he was trying.)
There was a loud sound that sounded far too much like an explosion for Jack's liking, followed by his partner's voice, which sounded every inch like a hurt, sulking teenager's.
(Mac had had to grow up way too fast. Sometimes, Jack thought, that meant that he regressed from time to time, back to those stages of life he never really got to fully experience.)
'I'm not hungry!'
Bozer stuck his head into the hallway, still wearing his Kiss the Cook apron, a questioning and very worried look on his face. Jack just shook his head, and Mac's best friend's shoulders slumped.
Jack turned back to Mac's resolutely sealed bedroom door, and banged twice more on it to ensure he got the blonde's attention, before calling through it again.
'Well, if you change your mind, there's plenty of grub!'
Mac didn't respond, but Jack assumed he'd heard him, and trudged back towards the kitchen, not having any appetite himself.
As they picked at their dinner, none of them really tasting it, despite the fact that Bozer's cooking was delicious, as usual, Jack, Matty, Bozer and Riley sat in silence.
Eventually, the hacker broke it, almost hesitantly. Sounding confessional, even, looking down at her plate, as if she couldn't quite meet their eyes.
'The Coltons gave me an offer to come work with them.' She looked up, and glanced at Jack, then Bozer, for the tiniest second, then down the corridor towards Mac's bedroom, from which loud clanking sounds and the occasional small explosion were still sounding out. 'It's…it's not easy for me and Billy, being so far apart…' She swallowed, looking down at her plate, then looked back up at the three of them. 'I'm thinking of taking it.'
There was silence for a long, long moment, as they all contemplated, processed, the events of the last 48 hours, and this latest bit of news on top of it.
Matty's eyes were sad, but there was something in there that seemed like acceptance. Like a blessing, almost.
Bozer looked shocked, almost shell-shocked, but at the same time, there was understanding in his eyes. Empathy. He got it.
Jack, however, just shook his head repeatedly. Vehemently. Firmly.
'No, no, you can't, Ri.' He shook his head again. 'This…this family can't fall apart, not after everything we've been through together!' Jack thwacked his hand on the table. 'I won't let it!' He pointed at the hacker. 'You can't do this to us, Riles, not now, not ever!'
He looked at the young woman who was the closest thing to a daughter, to a child, he'd ever, ever had, something very hurt and betrayed in his eyes, then got up without a word and stormed towards the front door, as if intending to leave.
Bozer and Matty could only watch and exchange a glance as Riley, shocked and wounded and with, they swore, tears beginning to pool in her eyes, just stared at Jack, half getting up from her seat as if to follow him, seemingly unsure if she should scold him and yell at him for being so presumptuous and possessive and an ass or just reach out and cry into his chest.
(Jack Dalton had a temper, they all knew that.)
(And he loved deeply, so, so deeply.)
(Loved Riley and Mac as if they were his own flesh and blood, been and was a better father to them than their own had ever been. Or ever would be.)
(They knew he could never bear to lose them.)
Jack had just laid a hand on the front door when the doorbell rang.
He opened the door, to find James MacGyver standing on the other side.
The two men stared at each other for a long, long moment, each seeing a mirror of their own emotions in the other's eyes.
Anger. Hurt. Betrayal. Pain.
Of the very worst kind.
Of the kind inflicted by those you trusted, you loved.
By your family.
James MacGyver (Jack refused to think of him as Oversight or Sir, he did not deserve that respect, not after what he'd forced Mac into doing) looked absolutely, utterly furious. As if he'd scorch and salt the Earth below his enemies.
He also looked as if he'd been crying.
As if he might actually cry again.
Mac's father spoke softly, voice hoarse and with the most emotion Jack had ever heard from the man.
(And, he thought, probably ever would.)
'I need to speak to Angus. Please.'
There was a pleading, almost begging note in his voice.
Something that Jack just knew had probably not graced the man's voice for years and years.
Jack stared into his eyes for a long, long moment again, and some modicum of understanding passed between them.
(Big boss or not, Jack would break that man without losing a wink of sleep if he hurt Mac again.)
(He had to make sure that he knew that.)
James MacGyver gave the tiniest, slightest of nods of acceptance, and Jack nodded back, then called out down the corridor towards his partner's room.
'Mac…you gotta come out, son. There's somebody who really, really, really needs to talk to you. And…trust me, brother…I think you really wanna hear what he's got to say.'
There was silence and tension through the whole house for a long moment. Then, slowly, after several clicks and clacks and clinks, the door to Mac's bedroom slowly opened.
The blonde stepped out, hair wild, grease on his cheeks, his hands and his clothes, eyebrows slightly singed and eyes red as if he'd been crying, expression stony as he stared down the corridor at his father.
Jack just gestured a little awkwardly towards the dining room, where Matty was nudging Riley and Bozer out towards the deck.
'I'll just be outside toasting marshmallows…holler if you need me, brother.'
Mac tore his eyes away from his father for a moment to give Jack a grateful nod, and the elder MacGyver glanced between the two of them for the briefest of seconds.
(Mac swore he saw something akin to pain…or even jealousy…in there for a moment, then kicked himself internally.)
(He had to be imagining things. And if he wasn't, he couldn't trust what he saw anyway.)
(He couldn't trust this man.)
(Couldn't.)
James MacGyver held up his hands, seeming to have to put effort into making his expression open.
'I know you don't want to see me or talk to me, Angus. I know you don't trust me. And that you've resigned.' He swallowed. 'And…and I accept that.' He held out his phone, which had a video clip on it, ready to be played. 'But…there's something you need to know.'
With a little hesitation, but also probably far more curiosity than was good for him, Mac took his dad's phone and played the video.
Thirty seconds later, he looked up at his dad, tears welling in his eyes, shaking his head.
'No, no…it can't be true, Mom died of cancer!'
James MacGyver just shook his head, swallowing a lump in his own throat, and gestured at his phone.
'Walsh sent another file. Read it.'
Mac, fingers shaking, opened the file and read.
Or, more accurately, looked.
Aflatoxins are highly carcinogenic – that means cancer-causing – compounds produced by certain species of Aspergillus moulds.
This…this is a synthetic derivative that is 500 times more carcinogenic.
Guess KX7 isn't the first time Jonah Walsh has dabbled in organic chemistry for evil.
Tears welling in his eyes even as he did everything he could to force them back, anger coursing through his veins even as he tried to restrain it, Mac looked up at his father, who just spoke, eyes hard with grief and anger and vengeance.
'What do you say, son? One last mission?'
Mac nodded.
PHOENIX JET
(THERE ARE PERKS TO BEING THE BIG BOSS)
SOMEWHERE OVER SOUTHERN TEXAS
ON-ROUTE TO MEXICO
Mac stared at the paperclip in his hands, which had been re-shaped into that aflatoxin derivative that had killed his mother.
According to Jonah Walsh, anyway.
Yeah, I'm not sure if you should believe your dad's former partner who turned to the dark side when he claims that he murdered your mom, especially when he has a really, really good reason to try and lure you into a trap.
Namely, we and Jack destroyed a whole section of his boss's cocaine operation, and we all know he wouldn't have been happy about that.
And drug lords are not known for their mercy or understanding.
He looked up at his dad, who was sitting on the other end of the jet, staring into space.
'Do you believe him?'
His dad swallowed and nodded.
'He was my partner for thirteen years, Angus. I know when he's lying.'
Mac bit back the urge to point out that he'd been utterly blindsided by Walsh's betrayal, and look what that had cost them.
He didn't trust his dad. He didn't really like him much either.
But he recognized that that was a hit far too far below the belt.
Still, there was something in his dad's voice that got the cogs in his head turning, made a suspicion start to grow.
(He didn't know this man anymore. He probably never had. He wasn't the best at reading people anyway…but something made Mac very, very sure that he'd reached the right conclusion.)
'You suspected, didn't you?'
He didn't need to specify what.
James MacGyver turned away for a moment, seemingly not able to meet his son's eyes. He was silent for a beat, before giving a little nod and speaking.
'I thought I was being paranoid. Thought I was grasping for something, anything, because I couldn't accept how unfair it was, losing her, because it'd be easier to have someone to blame…'
He trailed off and fell silent. Mac shoved all of the thoughts, many of which were really unpleasant, that were floating around his brain (And you never thought to share this with me? Or the authorities? Or Matty and your other co-workers? I felt the exact same way, and when I voiced that – something you never did, by the way – you didn't comfort me, or reassure me that you felt the exact same way, you just left!) into a safe in his mind and locked it securely, before he pulled another paperclip from his pocket, beginning to shape it into an apple.
'It's a trap.'
His dad gave a snort, shooting him one of those glances that he so often did and always had, the well, duh, of course look.
(Mac really, really hoped that he didn't come across as so arrogant and condescending.)
(He was smarter than the vast majority of the population, and he knew it. That wasn't arrogance, that was just objective fact, and he knew it didn't make him better than anyone else, it just made him better at certain things.)
(Just like other people were better at other, certain things.)
(Bozer cooked better than Mac ever would and had a gift with the artistic that Mac simply lacked. Jack had better aim and was a superior football player by at least an order of magnitude. Matty's poker face was miles better than his and she was far better at keeping an eye on the big picture, and Riley was more stylish and way better with computers than Mac would ever be, for example.)
'We can't let Walsh get away with this.'
James's voice was hard, flinty. Cold, and burning with anger at the same time.
Mac just nodded in agreement, and they lapsed into a long and uncomfortable silence.
Eventually, James broke it, swallowing and speaking quietly. As if he was confessing a great sin. With guilt, the most guilt that Mac had ever heard in his father's voice and was convinced he would ever hear.
'You were right, son. It's my fault your mom's dead.'
There was something almost broken in his voice, in his eyes, in his posture, but Mac couldn't quite bring himself to say anything in comfort.
It was, honestly, true.
Still, because it did hurt, it did tug at his heartstrings, to see the man in anguish (at least, Mac thought cynically – seeming anguish, anyway, who knows what James MacGyver actually thought, actually felt), Mac pulled a couple of the paperclips from his pocket and tossed them over to his father.
James caught them in his right hand, and wordlessly gave him a nod of thanks, and started unwinding one of them.
There was another long stretch of silence, this one ever-so-slightly, perhaps on the nanoscale, less uncomfortable than the earlier one.
Eventually, Mac broke it.
'You promised me answers.'
'I did.'
James spoke levelly, neutrally, factually. Almost guardedly.
Mac decided to ignore that fact (it wasn't worth getting worked up over, it wouldn't do him any good) and pressed on.
'You left. You didn't even say goodbye. All these years, you've been my boss, you've been steering the course of my life, and you never once reached out. If not for Matty, I'd never have learned the truth.' He sought out his dad's eyes, holding his gaze, something harsh in his own eyes, pinning him down with the force of it. 'Was Walsh telling the truth?'
He didn't need to specify when.
James just nodded once, and spoke bluntly, holding his son's gaze.
'It was easier, Angus. Easier to try and convince myself that I didn't have a son. Easier to not have to talk about you or think about you.'
Mac pushed down that not-so-little stab of hurt (What answer had he expected? What answer had he wanted? He didn't even know…), staring at his father's face for a very, very long time. Studying it.
He really, really wanted to believe everything his father had told him. Everything. All of it, every last bit.
Wanted to believe that it was, in the end, grief and anger and a desire to protect him and many, many gross errors of judgement that had driven him away, driven him to stay away and then to stay so close and yet so far all these years.
But as much as he wanted to…he couldn't. He absolutely couldn't.
It would be phenomenally stupid, foolish and a gross error of judgement to rival his father's.
James MacGyver was a consummate liar. Mac was half-convinced that he'd never actually known the man who'd sired him.
He wasn't even sure if his mother had known her husband, really known her husband, and somehow, that stung even more than knowing that he might well have never really known the man himself.
'You say you tried to forget about me, but you kept tabs on me. You steered me towards this life.' His eyes hardened, shuttering to hide that newly-bleeding, still-very-raw wound across his psyche. 'I call BS.'
'Steering you into this life…I did that to keep you safe.' Mac looked at him incredulously, and his father continued, looking a tiny bit annoyed or almost even disappointed that Mac couldn't follow his thinking. Just a tiny bit. He did seem to be trying very hard to not show it, at least. 'I've always known what kind of man you'd grow into, Angus. The kind that'd run towards danger to save others, instead of running away.' He spread his hands out, as if to say isn't it obvious? 'This was the safest path for you; I could keep an eye on you.' He paused. 'At least, that's what I thought.'
Mac let out a snort of disbelief.
And in other news, it's -2C in hell and flying pigs have been spotted over the Hollywood sign.
'Are you admitting you were wrong?'
'Well, I'm not saying I did it right.' A very sardonic look crossed Mac's face. That was probably about as good as he was ever going to get when it came to his dad admitting he was wrong. James was silent for a beat, before he continued, looking down at the paperclip he was absent-mindedly re-shaping, then back up at Mac. 'For quite a while, at first…it wasn't so much your granddad helping me keep tabs on you as much as…him force-feeding me updates on you. Angus got kicked out of the Boy Scouts, Angus won his fifth Science Fair, Bozer made Angus a delicious not-birthday cake, Angus got eighteen holes-in-one in a game of mini-golf…'
Mac swallowed, a sudden rush of deep love and affection, tinged with grief, for the man who'd been his only real father-figure (excepting perhaps Mr Ericson) for far too many years.
('Sometimes a man like your dad can get so focussed on what he thinks is important that he completely misses out on what really is important. When your old man realizes that, he'll be back.')
(His grandfather had been right about the first bit. He'd been wrong about the second, but he'd at least made sure to constantly remind his father about what was really important.)
Without him having to think about it, the paperclip in his hands took the shape of his Swiss Army knife, his grandfather's Swiss Army knife (well, technically, the identical replacement Jack had given him, but still…).
'So he knew?' James just nodded. 'Did Mom?' Another nod. 'So everyone knew but me?'
Mac couldn't help but let some of the hurt bleed into his voice, even as he knew it was utterly irrational.
His dad shot him a look that said, don't be ridiculous, Angus.
'You were a kid.' His voice softened a little. 'On her deathbed, your mom made me promise that I'd tell you the truth when you were old enough.'
'Well, you broke that one.'
'We didn't exactly define old enough…'
It was Mac's turn to shoot his dad a don't be ridiculous look, and the older man just gave a tiny little nod in acknowledgement, something that Mac would describe as regret in his eyes.
(Though whether it was genuine, he couldn't quite be sure. If he had to bet, though, he'd say yes.)
There was silence for a moment, slightly less awkward again, perhaps on the microscale this time, before James continued.
'And your mom and grandpa weren't supposed to know either, but…' He clasped his hands together for a second, then pulled his fingers apart and picked up another paperclip, beginning to unwind it. 'I've never told you the story of how I met your mom. Or…' He pulled out his Swiss Army knife. '…why I started carrying this around.' He looked over at his son. 'I'm probably seventeen years too late, but…'
'Better late than never.'
Mac's words were half-bitter, and half-accepting, with a more-than-healthy note of curiosity in them.
'Walsh and I had been partners for just under a year at this point. An old Army buddy of your grandpa's, who'd become very senior at the Pentagon, had stumbled upon a mole. He didn't know which of his co-workers he could trust, but he knew he could trust your granddad, so he went to him.' A wry little smile, one very much like the one Mac had seen when he'd caught his own reflection in some reflective surface many a time, appeared on his face. It made him seem younger, and kinder. Softer. More like the man Mac remembered from when he was very, very young, when his mother had been hale and hearty. 'Of course, Walsh and I were hunting the mole at the same time, and we all wound up in a scrape together.' The way he said scrape made it clear that it was much, much more than a scrape. 'Your grandpa, Walsh and I got out of it because of two things. A, a very handy habit that your granddad and his buddy had picked up when they were serving together.' He held up his Swiss Army knife, and Mac would have sworn right at that moment on all the laws of physics that his dad's eyes filled with emotion (sadness, affection, admiration…). 'B, the corner office and playing politics hadn't changed old Angus McLafferty in the slightest.'
'That's why you and Mom named me Angus?'
A deceased old friend of my grandfather's, a hero who gave his life for the lives of three others…that is an awful lot better than being named after a hamburger, like Donnie Sandoz used to insist I was.
Unfortunately, I could never actually prove him wrong.
In fact, during some moments that I'm admittedly not too proud of, I used to think that my dad might have named me after a hamburger because he was, A, completely crazy, or B, was doing some ridiculous and highly unethical social experiment on me.
Those moments never lasted too long, because then I remembered that my mom would have never, ever allowed him to get away with that.
James just nodded.
'If not for him and his sacrifice, you'd never have been born. For several reasons.' He paused, and for a moment, there was something very, very, very soft in his eyes, something that Mac could recall seeing there whenever his dad had gotten home from one of his 'business trips' and laid eyes on his mom. 'After debrief, Walsh and I dropped your grandpa back to his place. His daughter was waiting on the front porch, and when she saw him, she ran over and hugged her dad with as much love as I'd ever seen.' Something simultaneously very wry and very affectionate, loving, tinged with deep-seated grief and just a touch of anger crossed James's face. 'And then she started yelling at Walsh and I for bringing him home bruised and a little cut up…' Mac was as sure as he could be that that was an understatement. '…since he wasn't a spring chicken anymore.' James's little smile widened, as he lost himself further in the memory. 'When I dared to argue with her, she slapped me…' Mac's eyes widened, and his dad actually made a noise that was almost a chuckle. 'I probably deserved that…before inviting us in for the best apple pie I'd ever eaten as thanks for bringing her dad home alive.' Mac, too, smiled. His mother's apple pie was legendary. Unfortunately, her secret recipe had died with her. All of his intermittent attempts to replicate it with the aid of Bozer over the years had never quite managed to nail it. 'And then she had the nerve to tell me that I'd gotten the absolute configuration of one of the stereocentres in macelignan wrong.'
Mac's smile widened.
Macelignan is a compound found in nutmeg, which was definitely one of the spices in Mom's apple pie.
I am completely unsurprised that Mom knew its structure, down to the absolute configuration of the stereocentres.
I am also completely unsurprised that she'd correct Dad – much more nicely than Dad would have corrected someone – if he got it wrong.
Yeah, it is really not surprising that I turned out the way I did.
James's smile widened a little too, before his expression simultaneously grew hard and cruel and burning with grief and anger and the desire for vengeance, as well as a little softer, affectionate.
'A few months later, when I got dosed with sodium thiopental, I said to Jonah, that if by some miracle, she'd have me, that she was the woman I was going to marry.' He looked into the distance, into his memories, for a moment, before he focused back on Mac. 'Angus, I wasn't all that sure that I'd want the whole wife, kids, white picket fence when I was about your age. I had all these projects and ideas and there was work…' He shrugged. 'When I was recruited, I thought I could keep family and work separate, abstractly, but…there was never a woman who made me actually want to try it until I met your mom.'
Part of Mac told himself to absolutely not trust a word his father was saying.
He was a stranger to him, really.
A stranger who was a consummate liar. Clearly talented at manipulating people. And this was one of the oldest tricks in the book.
But…for this last twenty minutes or so…the man in front of him hadn't quite seemed like a stranger.
He hadn't seemed like the dad he'd remembered, either, but Mac was completely certain that that man had never quite been who James MacGyver truly was either.
At least, not all of James MacGyver.
A facet, perhaps, maybe even the dominant facet, the truly important facet (at least, his grandfather would have said that).
But a facet.
Maybe…maybe this was the man that his father truly was now.
After everything.
Maybe.
Just maybe.
PHOENIX FOUNDATION HEADQUARTERS
SOMEWHERE IN LA
'…I don't know what to think, baby!' Bozer paced through the thankfully empty (well, except for Sparky) lab, talking to Leanna over video call on his phone. 'Mac's quitting and you're joining, and I don't know if that's a net loss or gain! And Riley's saying she might be resigning to go work for the Coltons…Heck, I don't know if I even wanna work at a Phoenix with no Mac and Riley! It's just not gonna be the same! I don't know if I can do it…'
On the phone, Leanna stared at him, disbelieving and hurt.
'Bozer, I know Mac's your best friend and you and Riley are really close, and I'd never want to get between you guys, but-'
'They're not just my friends, they're more than that! Mac's my BFF. We're family. And you can't just let your family resign super-dramatically for super-good reasons without seriously thinking about following their lead-'
'Bozer, this is about us. Our future. Together.' Leanna's voice was very clearly hurt and angry, a little cold with it, too. 'You have to think about us too. A lot more than you've clearly been doing.'
And she hung up, abruptly.
Bozer blinked at his phone, shocked and stunned and hurting too.
'I am no expert on interpersonal relationships, particularly of the romantic kind, Mr Bozer. But I think you have really screwed up.'
Bozer glared at Sparky, and half-heartedly lobbed a rag at the robot.
'Oh, shut up, you.'
ACCOUNTANTS' OFFICE
(AT LEAST, THAT'S WHAT THE SIGN OUTSIDE SAYS)
MEXICO CITY
MEXICO
Mac crossed his arms as James attempted to get through the heavily-encrypted files on the computer of the boss of the 'accountants'. He glanced around, as several of the subdued and secured cartel members began to twitch, then looked back at his dad, gesturing with his head to the file that he was trying to crack (unsuccessfully).
'Send them to Riley. She'll get into them much, much faster than you can.'
James didn't turn around, but Mac could already see the look on his face in his mind's eye anyway, lips pursing slightly, eyes narrowing ever-so-slightly, clearly not keen to ask for help.
'This is a family matter.'
'Riley is family.'
(James was well aware that interpersonal interaction was not his strongest suit. But the implicit unlike someone was very, very clear to him.)
(He supposed the fact that his son hadn't made it explicit meant that they might be making some progress.)
(Which honestly, might be more than he deserved.)
(His son might be furious with him, might not trust him or even like him, but he still extended him more than he deserved.)
(He got that from Ellen.)
James gave a nod that was a little more than perfunctory.
'Alright. Call her.'
'Hey, Mac. What do you need?'
Riley completely ignored James, even though they were all well aware that she knew he was Oversight.
(Riley firmly believed that Mac had the right to know the truth about his father.)
(She also firmly believed that Mac – and Mac alone – had the right to determine what kind of relationship he'd have with the man, if any at all.)
(She'd take her cues from him. Given what had transpired over the last 48 hours, James MacGyver – no matter if he was an eccentric inventor who'd done nothing but fish the backwoods of Montana for the last seventeen years, Oversight or the President of the USA – was getting the cold shoulder from her.)
'We're sending you some files; we need you to get through the encryption…'
PHOENIX FOUNDATION HEADQUARTERS
SOMEWHERE IN LA
Jack gave a half-yelp as Matty walked into the men's room, closing the door firmly behind her and turning the lock.
(All doors at the Phoenix locked from the inside, just in case.)
'Matty, this is the little boys' room! Little girls' is next door!'
Matty just crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at him.
'You think I can't tell the difference, Jack?'
They lapsed into silence for a moment, Jack resting his hands on the edge of the sink, staring at his reflection and the reflection of the top of his boss's head in the mirror.
'You know, if you hadn't started leaving those breadcrumbs for our boy, this wouldn't all be happening right now.'
He didn't need to specify what he meant by this.
He'd made it very clear the night before.
Besides, that hurt and pain and fear and even those notes of betrayal in his eyes made it so obvious, especially to a master interrogator like Matty, who'd known Jack for so long.
'Can you really blame me for giving Mac the truth he's wanted for seventeen years?' Her voice was gentler than Jack would have expected. (He probably should stop being so surprised by Matty the Hun's softer side.) Jack made no verbal response, just huffed out a breath and lowered his head to stare at the drain for a moment, which was, to Matty, just as good as an answer. She reached out and put a hand on his arm. 'We are a family, Jack. Even if Mac really does quit, even if Riley goes to work for the Coltons, we are a family. Those ties are stronger than our jobs, stronger than convenience.'
Jack turned his head a little to stare into her eyes for a long, long moment, and she could see that he saw the truth of her words. Matty patted his arm again, and Jack gave a little smile and a nod in gratefulness.
Then, Matty removed her arm and let out a sigh.
'When I became Director, I was worried about Mac.' Jack was instantly listening very, very intently. There was something confessional, laid bare, in Matty's voice, and while he knew that Matty always did everything for a reason, and she always tried to protect their family, she didn't often explain her motivations. 'I worried that he was just like his dad, or would become his dad. As great a man as he is, he's…'
A very sardonic look crossed Jack's face, mixed with a healthy dose of protective anger.
'Not the best of men, is he?'
Matty just nodded, a very similar look on her face.
'He's made a lot of mistakes. He has a lot of regrets.' Jack wasn't completely sold on that (he was pretty sure that as much as he regretted the outcome, a good chunk of James MacGyver was still convinced he'd done the right thing), but he supposed Matty did know the man far better than he did. 'I saw a lot of similarities.'
'So you tested him?' Matty gave a little nod, and Jack nodded, having guessed as much already. Then, he glanced down at his boss. 'And now you've gotten to know him, you see the differences.'
She nodded again, a soft little smile, a fond smile, growing on her face, before her expression grew more serious again.
'They might be the only two people in the world who can do what they do.' She glanced up at Jack, nodded at his belt, where his weapon was often strapped. Despite the fact that she'd seen his father pull off seemingly impossible improvisations time after time (had known that the elder MacGyver wasn't lucky, he was good), she'd always known, from the moment she'd laid eyes on him, that Mac was not his father. She'd had to put him and his skills to the test (check that he wasn't lucky, but good), in addition to testing his character. 'But even James carries.'
ROOFTOP OVERLOOKING NONDESCRIPT WAREHOUSE
(SUSPICIOUSLY NONDESCRIPT WAREHOUSE)
MEXICO CITY
MEXICO
Mac handed the improvised binoculars they'd put together to his father.
'Definitely a trap.'
'What else do we have to assume?'
Mac just shot James a look.
Look, I'm a firm believer in lifelong learning. I also know that I still have lots and lots to learn – I can't know everything, after all, as much as I might try.
But I am not a kid learning long division or redox reactions or calculus anymore.
I am also not a newbie agent.
And you can definitely teach without being…well, a condescending ass.
Mom did it.
Mr Ericson did it.
I do my best.
Pretty sure he doesn't even try.
The older man just stared right back at him, quirking his brow ever-so-slightly, and Mac rolled his eyes and answered, not bothering to put any effort into keep the snark out of his voice.
'That Walsh knows we're here and casing the place, and there's a good chance he knows we're casing it from here.'
His dad nodded, satisfied, then spoke.
'Then how are we going to, A, avoid his trap, and B, catch him in our own?' He paused, and actually looked a little bit sheepish. Just a little bit. A very little bit. 'I'm not testing you, I want your opinion.'
Mac turned his head and looked very seriously at him, putting a substantial effort into making sure he didn't come across as didactic and condescending.
(It wasn't the easiest, to be fair to his dad.)
'I get it's probably not easy for you to adapt to the fact that I'm not ten anymore. Even Jack's had trouble with Riley from time to time. But you need to stop treating me like a child or a newbie agent. 'Cause I'm neither.'
'You can still learn.'
'You can always still learn. But it doesn't have to be in the way you've been doing it.'
His dad didn't seem quite convinced, but he seemed to be considering it anyway, which Mac counted as a win.
The two of them lapsed into silence (which seemed just a little less uncomfortable than the last one, yet again), before James spoke.
'Remember that time when you and your grandpa pranked me to cheer up your mom when she was going through chemo?'
A very wry, mischievous little smile that tugged at James MacGyver's very hardened heartstrings and reminded him of his little boy before he'd gotten so big crossed Mac's face
'Which time?'
James shot him a look.
'You know which time.'
Mac gave a little smirk that was a tiny bit sheepish and nodded.
'Yeah.' He gestured down towards the street. 'I'll get the tomatoes, you get the feathers.'
TACO STAND
MEXICO CITY
MEXICO
The very furious taco vendor ran through the alleyway onto the main street, which was populated with many other vendors and customers.
'Some gringo stole all my tomatoes!'
PHOENIX FOUNDATION HEADQUARTERS
SOMEWHERE IN LA
About half an hour after she'd finished decrypting the files for Mac (and his dad, but she'd done it for Mac), Jack walked into the little room that Riley had commandeered.
'Hey, Ri.' He rubbed the back of his neck. 'I owe you an apology. You know, for losing it last night. We'd miss you like mad, Riles, but if it's gonna make you happier, you gotta do what you gotta do.'
Riley looked up at him and pursed her lips.
'I get it, we're family and family sticks together…but you really overreacted.' Jack nodded ruefully, and she got up with a fond little smile and held her arms out for a hug, which Jack happily obliged. She tucked her head over his shoulder, going up onto her toes to do so. 'I thought you were a deadbeat who wouldn't answer the phone, and we didn't talk for years…but even then, you were still the closest thing to a dad I ever had, Jack.' He squeezed her a little tighter. 'A couple thousand miles and a career change isn't going to change that.' Head tucked over her shoulder, Jack smiled, reassured, and after a moment's silence, Riley continued, voice more uncertain, hesitant, thoughtful. 'Besides…I haven't decided yet.'
Jack pulled back, resting his hands on Riley's shoulders, and looking straight into her eyes.
'If you wanna talk about it, I'm here, Ri.' He puffed his chest out. 'Always plenty of Jack-wisdom to go around, on any topic you want, especially for you, kiddo.'
Her smile widened.
'I know.'
SUSPICIOUSLY NONDESCRIPT WAREHOUSE
MEXICO CITY
MEXICO
Jonah Walsh held out a gun in each hand, one trained on each of the two men in front of him, and grinned.
Around him, no fewer than eight of his men were completely out cold or twitching and groaning slightly (he'd expected no less from the MacGyvers), but he had the father-son dynamic duo exactly where he wanted them.
Or so he thought.
James, a little smirk appearing on his face, a reminder of the man that had been Jonah's best friend (especially the man he'd grown into after he'd met Ellen – mostly serious, still with that coldness to him, but so much warmer than when they'd first been partnered and definitely more fun), just raised an eyebrow.
'I've told you at least 326 times, Walsh, look up.'
The younger MacGyver, without so much as having to glance at his father, pressed down on something in his pocket, and Walsh found his vision suddenly obscured as something that smelled like tomatoes and felt ticklish at the same time landed on him.
As his father moved to throw the first punch, timing it perfectly so that he struck Walsh mere milliseconds after he was coated with their trap's rather unpleasant (and very annoying and distracting) contents, Mac shifted his position, mentally and largely unconsciously calculating the best move to make.
As he swept out a leg to trip Walsh, he noted, also largely unconsciously, in the back of his mind, that even though Mac really didn't like him much and really didn't trust him either, he and his dad did make a really good team.
He wasn't quite sure what to make of that.
PHOENIX FOUNDATION HEADQUARTERS
SOMEWHERE IN LA
Riley and Jill, both holding Tupperware containers (they were going to the breakroom for lunch – Riley was bringing her rig with her, of course, just in case Mac needed her for anything else), passed by the lab, and wordlessly, by simple, silent agreement, the two young women walked in to see if Bozer could be prised from what they assumed had to be a long chat with Leanna full of ludicrous sappiness that'd make Riley want to vomit or a really time-consuming, concentration-intense project so that he could distract himself from the upheaval surrounding them.
What they found was neither of those.
Instead, Bozer was sitting in front of one of his prosthesis projects, which had several pink spots on it that they were quite sure were definitely not meant to be there. There was a dripping paintbrush in his hand, and he was monologuing to Sparky, who seemed to be turned off anyway.
'…why does love have to hurt so much?' He shot Sparky a look. 'Well, of course you wouldn't understand, you hunk of scrap! Your processor can't handle those feelings and all!' Bozer jabbed at his chest, over his heart. 'Well, my processor isn't doing so well right now either!'
Riley and Jill just exchanged a glance, full of exasperated fondness with the tiniest touch of amusement and worry, all at once.
'Bozer?'
'Do you wanna talk to someone who can actually talk back and can process emotions?'
Fifteen minutes later, Jack and Matty walked past the Phoenix breakroom on their way to the war room.
The breakroom was empty, save for three people.
In the corner, Riley sat next to Bozer, while Jill sat opposite them. Bozer looked very morose, his shoulders slumped, and Jill was watching him with sympathy, while Riley patted his shoulder gently, before pulling him into a side-hug.
Jack and Matty just exchanged a glance, full of meaning and concern.
SUSPICIOUSLY NONDESCRIPT WAREHOUSE
MEXICO CITY
MEXICO
Mac quickly and efficiently secured Walsh's wrists with the man's belt, before, just to be sure, tying the man's ankles together too with his own belt.
His father had his gun levelled at Walsh, eyes cold and harsh.
Neither of them were taking any chances, even if Walsh was probably concussed and only mostly-conscious, as well as sporting what was probably badly-bruised ribs and several cuts, bruises and a bullet graze.
James MacGyver quickly visually inspected Walsh's bindings and nodded once in approval, as Mac got up to stand by his father.
Then, James leaned forward and reached down, seizing Walsh's collar and pulling him to his feet…before placing the muzzle of his gun on the side of his former partner's head.
'Dad, what are you-'
'He killed my wife, Angus.'
Each and every word was cleanly, coldly, enunciated. There was nothing but ice-cold fury in his voice. Seething fury. Fury and anger that'd built and festered for years and years and years.
Vengeful fury.
Murderous fury.
Walsh began to laugh, in a way that really, really reminded Mac of someone.
Someone who'd gone after his family, just like Walsh had.
Someone who had, however, thankfully, not succeeded, unlike Walsh.
'Oh, Jimmy, you really gonna be able to do it? Kill your partner of thirteen years in cold blood? After all we've been through together-'
James drove the muzzle a little harder into the other man's forehead, eyes hardening further, more of that barely-leashed fury building in his voice.
'After everything you've done…in a heartbeat.'
His finger tightened slightly on the trigger, and Mac flung out a hand, glancing between the two men for a moment, before making eye contact with his father.
James's eyes slid away from his son's.
'You…you said you were going to put him in prison!'
'That was before.' He didn't need to specify before what. 'Prison's too good for him, Angus.' The fury in his voice grew, as if it was starting to break free of its leash. 'He killed your mom!'
An answering flare of anger swelled in Mac again, but he caught it, reminded himself very firmly that as tempting as it was to let his father kill Walsh, that was not the kind of man that he was.
(And it wasn't the kind of man that his father was either, said a voice in his head that stubbornly refused to be silent, stubbornly refused to bow to the arguments that the other voices in his head presented – he probably had never known his father anyway, not truly, and besides, God knows how the man had changed in their years apart...)
'I know!' He took two deep breaths. 'But…but that doesn't mean we should kill him. An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.' Mac swallowed, voice growing a little rougher, a little hoarser with emotion. 'And Mom wouldn't…Mom wouldn't want it to be that way.'
Mac had only known his mother for five years of his life. He only truly remembered about two and a half of those.
But he knew, just as surely as he knew the Laws of Thermodynamics or the square root of 900, that Ellen MacGyver would not want her husband or her son to become cold-blooded murderers to avenge her. In her name.
James MacGyver didn't take his eyes off Walsh. He held the other man's gaze for a long, long moment, as Walsh stared back, challenging him, taunting him, to do it. To pull the trigger.
He didn't remove the gun from his former partner's head.
Eventually, he spoke.
'You are alive for one reason, Jonah. My son is a better man than either of us will ever be.'
And with that, he removed the muzzle of his gun from Walsh's head, and brought the butt down on his temple instead, knocking him out cleanly, before flinging the man to the ground, looking very tempted to spit on his unconscious form.
Then, he finally, finally met Mac's eyes.
Father and son stared at each other for a long, long moment.
Finally, James gave his son a single nod.
A nod that really, really seemed to Mac (probably against his better judgement) to say, I'm proud of you, son.
Or, maybe, even, thank you.
Mac swallowed, processing, as his father turned away and pulled out his phone.
'Webber, we need ex-fil…'
PHOENIX JET
SOMEWHERE OVER THE GULF OF CALIFORNIA
ON-ROUTE TO LA
Mac toyed with the paperclip in his hands, which was rapidly taking the shape of a pie.
(In his mind, it was an apple pie, of course.)
(There were several others already scattered around his seat, in shapes ranging from an eye, to a set of scales, to a computer, to a watch – a very particular watch – and a phoenix.)
His dad looked up from where he was staring at Walsh, who was stubbornly silent.
(He wouldn't be for long, James knew. They'd get every useful drop of intel out of him. He and Matty, between the two of them, could make just about anyone sing like a canary.)
(They weren't as good as Samantha Cage, but they were pretty damn close.)
(And James was really, really looking forward to breaking his former partner.)
Eventually, James tore his eyes away from the man (the murderer, a voice in his head insisted vehemently), and looked over at his son instead, marshalling his thoughts into order.
'You're a great man, Angus.' Mac looked up at him, expression inscrutable to James. That made the voice in his head that sounded just like Ellen start scolding him even more fiercely than she'd had the day they'd met. A lifetime working in his line of work had made him talented at reading people, even though that'd never been something that'd come naturally to him. His son's expression should be an open book to him, but it wasn't. Not anymore. 'You get that from me.'
Mac snorted derisively.
Yup, just as arrogant as I remember.
I admit, I think I do come across as arrogant sometimes. Sometimes, I forget to, well, I guess, filter things to make them suitable for public consumption, as my granddad used to put it.
But I really hope I'm nowhere near that bad.
He opened his mouth to make a snappy retort, but his father held up a hand to stay him, and continued, voice growing softer, sadder and prouder, all at once.
'But you're a good man in a way that I'll never be.' He gestured towards Walsh, who was watching with great interest and chuckles that both MacGyvers ignored. 'You get that from your mom and your granddad.' James paused and swallowed. 'You turned out a better man because I left.'
Mac stared at his father, expression incredulous, and gave a snort.
That is, pardon my language, utter crap.
He'd grown up essentially an orphan because his dad left, and before that, the man had been emotionally distant for years.
He was not convinced that that'd been worth it, even if it had made him a 'better' man.
Still, his mom had seen something in his dad, something worth loving with all her heart, something that'd made her sure that he was her right one.
And Matty saw something in his dad too. Something worth trusting.
(He knew Matty could deal with and accept the greys and hard decisions and shadows and lies of their lives far better than he could, but he also knew she wouldn't, couldn't, work for someone for so long that she didn't trust either.)
He trusted both of them, trusted their judgement, even if, sometimes, he'd really, really questioned his mother's choice of husband, and he'd doubted Matty more than once.
He didn't really have a proper response to his father's words, and besides, he was pretty sure his expression said it all, and he wasn't quite comfortable looking the man in the eyes (there was something profoundly sad and regretful and even guilty in there that Mac didn't want to see right now), so, instead, turned to Walsh and asked the question that'd been bugging him (one of many, admittedly) since his dad had explained the purpose of that Chinese takeout menu to him.
'You devoted your life to peace and saving lives. You were partners for thirteen years. You were best friends. Why?'
Walsh chuckled, but it was a surprisingly bitter sound.
'I'll answer that one 'cause you're the one asking, Mini-Mac.' He gestured to James with his chin. 'You were so lucky. You had everything, Jimmy. Everything. This kind, loving, beautiful spitfire of a wife, a brilliant little boy who idolized you, and you didn't know it. Never appreciated it the way you should have. How many times did I catch you in the labs late in the evening, when you should've been home with your family? How many times did we all tell you to take a day or two or three off, to help Ellen plan your wedding, or take a longer honeymoon, or fuss over her when Angus was due any day, or so you could be there for his first day of school? And how many times did you refuse, 'cause you said you had a job to do?'
James actually jumped out of his seat, and almost lunged at Walsh, but managed to stop himself.
'I was trying to make the world a safer place! For them!'
He sounded reasonably sure of himself.
(Despite the fact that his wife had been murdered, and he and his son had been estranged for more than seventeen years, and Mac was still pissed at him, didn't trust him anymore and didn't even like him much either…)
Mac swallowed and looked away from the two former partners.
His dad really did not have a good grasp of what was really important in life. His grandfather really had been almost-always right.
On the other hand…he understood his dad's logic and feelings on the matter far better than made him comfortable.
Walsh shook his head, jealousy and bitterness clear in his eyes.
'So, Jimmy, I thought to myself…at least I could have plenty of dough.' He looked up at him, a dark smirk on his face. 'You know how much your enemies would pay to hurt you in the worst way possible?'
Mac felt a surge of anger course through him. For one terrible, awful moment, he really, really wanted to wrap his hands around Walsh's throat and keep squeezing until…but he dug his nails into his palms and took deep breaths, trying to keep his posture and expression as normal as possible, and it passed.
He glanced over at his father, thinking that he'd see the same anger reflected there, that burning rage, wondering if he'd have to stop him from shooting Walsh through the eyes point-blank again (as unwise as it was to shoot a gun on a plane, you could do it safely if you really knew what you were doing…and he didn't doubt James MacGyver did), and wondering if he'd actually be able to.
He was surprised.
There was anger there, but his dad's eyes were mostly filled with pain. Longing. Regret.
And guilt.
Suddenly, James MacGyver seemed a lot less sure of himself.
As if he was, perhaps, re-evaluating every decision he'd ever made.
Something about that look made Mac start re-evaluating his own decisions.
Namely, one very specific decision.
(He knew that was probably a terrible idea.)
(But he couldn't help it.)
PHOENIX FOUNDATION HEADQUARTERS
SOMEWHERE IN LA
Jack pulled him into a bear hug as soon as he saw him, one so tight that Mac was half-convinced he cracked a rib or two.
'I am so, so sorry, brother.'
As soon as Jack let go, Mac found himself enveloped in Bozer's arms.
'Soon as we get home, bro, I'm gonna get that Jackson family secret recipe tomato soup on for you. With plenty of grilled cheese, of course. We gotta do it right!'
Mac gave a wan little smile over his best friend's shoulder.
'Thanks, Boze.'
Riley hugged him next, not for quite as long as Jack or Bozer had, but just as tightly.
'If you want to talk, Mac, I'm always here.'
When he let go of the hacker, Matty simply held her arms up, and Mac crouched down and hugged her too.
She was silent, simply stroking the hair at the back of his head in a way that was very, very similar to how his mom had done it when he was a little kid.
It all helped.
They all had slightly different methods of comfort, but his family always knew how to make him feel just that little bit better.
Bozer walked into the lab, to find Leanna standing there, looking uncharacteristically awkward.
The two of them spoke at once, over each other.
'I'm sorry.'
'I am so sorry.'
There was an awkward, somewhat tense, silence for a moment, before Bozer gestured at Leanna, still awkwardly.
'Uh, ladies first.'
Leanna bit her lip.
'I'm sorry, Bozer. Mac's your family, him quitting can't be easy for you…'
Bozer nodded.
'Yeah. And I'm sorry too, Leanna.' He reached out for her hand, hesitantly, and after a moment, she took it. 'We're…you and me, we're in this for the long haul, so I gotta consider you too.'
She nodded too, and they stood there for a moment, hand-in-hand, but still feeling an undercurrent of tension and awkwardness there.
After a beat, Bozer grinned and gestured grandly to the lab, dealing with that tension and awkwardness in the best way he knew how.
'Now, Miss Martin, has anyone given you the grand tour yet?'
Leanna laughed and shook her head with fond exasperation.
'No…are you volunteering, Mr Beaver?'
'Mac?'
Matty walked into the near-empty lab (the only occupants were Mac and Sparky, the former making some modification to the latter's left shoulder joint), and the blonde looked up at her.
'Thanks to the intel we got out of Walsh…' She'd insisted on doing most of the interrogation, though James had pulled rank on her to at least get a chance to do some of it. '…we just arrested the entire leadership of the La Ola cartel. They're going down.'
Mac nodded and gave a wan little smile.
'Good.'
In a cubicle in the women's bathroom (she wanted privacy and this was the best place she could think of), Riley dialled a number that she called very, very frequently.
'Hey, my lady.'
Riley smiled, soft and fond and a tiny bit exasperated, as she did every time he called her that.
'Hey, Billy.' She paused for a moment. 'I, uh…thought more about your offer, and…' She sighed. 'I do love the idea of being near you, but…' She swallowed again, and spoke, with great certainty. Finality. 'I can't leave my family.'
Billy was silent for the tiniest moment, before he replied, and she could practically see that soft little smile on his face, sad and understanding and with the tiniest touch of admiration in it all at once.
'I get it. I love the idea of being near you so much, lady, you can't imagine…but I couldn't leave my family either.' There was a stretch of silence for a moment, during which Riley feared that this might be the end for them, which she really, really, really didn't want. Eventually, Billy broke it, sounding as if the exact same thoughts had been running through his head. 'Guess this makes it a little harder, but you and me, neither of us have ever shied away from hard, and it's been going pretty great, so…'
Riley smiled.
'We can make this work.'
Mac walked into the interrogation room that Matty had told him his father would be in.
His dad was staring at the wall, at the height where Mac estimated Walsh's head would have been if he'd been sitting in the chair opposite his dad.
He turned to face Mac, a clear question in his expression, and Mac spoke after a moment of marshalling his thoughts, the ones that'd been swimming around his head for hours and hours and hours, into something half-orderly.
'I can't work with or for someone I don't trust.' His father nodded once in acceptance. 'But I trust everyone I work with, save one.' He paused. 'And…despite what some people say, I think trust can be repaired, and we're both really good at fixing things, so…if you're willing to do work with me on this, I'm willing to work for you for peace.'
Mac swore in that moment that his father looked moved. Actually, truly moved.
(And this time, he allowed himself to believe that it was genuine.)
James MacGyver held out a hand, and Mac took it, and they shook on it, holding each other's gazes.
'I promise, son.'
Mac nodded once in acceptance, acknowledgement.
His father's promise didn't mean much to Mac right now at all…but maybe one day, with some time and a lot of work, it would mean something.
With another nod, he released his father's hand and turned to head home.
He had some news to share…and probably some apologies to make.
I can't work for someone I don't trust.
But I also can't bear to leave my family.
And…I don't know if I could stop doing what I do. It feels like something I have to do, a duty. A responsibility.
I guess my dad was right about me in that sense.
I know this is far from ideal. I'm not 100% sure I've actually made the right decision.
But I meant what I said.
I trust everyone else that I work with. I trust whom I work for on a daily basis.
Of course I do.
They're my family.
So…maybe, because of all that, I can work for someone I don't trust yet.
My dad and I have more similarities than I'd care to admit.
But we also have some distinct differences.
I can't lie to a girlfriend or a wife about what I do every day. Or to the kids, once they're old enough.
I will never break my promises.
And I will never, ever leave my family.
MACGYVER'S RESIDENCE
LA
'…Hey, brother, where you at? I got your favourite beer!'
Jack hollered as he walked in to Mac's house. He passed Bozer in the kitchen, wearing his Kiss the Cook apron again and stirring tomato soup on the stove, a foot-high stack of not-yet-grilled grilled cheeses on a plate beside him, waiting to go on the cast iron that was heating up. Mac's BFF just gestured towards the deck and started assembling even more grilled cheese sandwiches. Jack just raised an eyebrow. 'Hey, Boze, we all know Mac's metabolism is almost as fast as that brain of his, and I appreciate the faith you got in me, I really do, but that's a hell of a lot of grilled cheese, man.'
Bozer raised an eyebrow right back at Jack.
'Hey, you reckon I haven't gotten the portioning exactly right for our fam yet?' Bozer sounded very much like he did when one dared to question him about whether he'd gotten the seasoning just right or the burgers perfectly cooked. He even put his hands on his hips for emphasis. 'Riley and Matty will be here in twenty.'
Jack raised his hands.
'Hey, wasn't criticizing, just commenting…' He jerked his thumb out at the deck. 'Anyway, I'm gonna have a chat with our boy…'
'With a really long story that doesn't really go anywhere and some really weird analogies?'
'Hey, don't knock the Jack-wisdom, brother. Don't knock it!'
Mac was sitting out on the deck, fire-pit unlit, staring into the distance. He was also holding a photo in his right hand, and when Jack walked out onto the deck, he looked back down at it.
Jack sat down wordlessly beside his partner, and looked at the photo too.
It was a photo of a very beautiful woman, rolling out a pie crust, with a smudge of flour on her cheek, smiling warmly at the camera.
Without having to be told, Jack knew instantly who the woman in the photo was.
(It was really rather obvious. Mac had his mother's eyes, and his hair was almost exactly the same shade of blonde as hers. And they had the same smile, too.)
'I wish I could've met her, son.'
Mac turned his head a little and smiled at him, soft and sad and wistful.
'Yeah, me too.'
AN: Oh, come on, like I was going to let Mac or Riley quit the Phoenix…and like I could end this 'episode' with anything other than a Mac-and-Jack moment! :P
I hope you guys liked that and the direction that it took, and I really hope you think it's in-character and in the spirt of the show. I seriously considered going with several different storylines regarding James and how Mac un-quits his job at the Phoenix here. I considered having him die saving Mac from Walsh (heroically, of course, and Mac mostly forgives him as he dies – because, come on, would Mac be snarky to his dying father? Of course not!). I also considered having James quit his job in order to go hunt down his enemies, especially the ones who paid Walsh to kill Ellen (which I considered then leading to Thornton becoming Oversight – with, of course, an extremely complicated and world-shaking revelation that she was on a deep-cover op to take down The Organization the whole time that leaves the team reeling). Heck, I even considered James being actually evil (not that anybody – not even Walsh – knew) and the head of The Organization (think Chrysalis storyline but arguably ten times worse) and having killed his wife because she'd gotten too close to figuring out his double-double life or because she was a distraction or his moral compass or something. In the end, I decided that all those options were kinda the 'easy way out' in the sense that they avoided this complicated scenario (which I'm not 100% sure is in-character…but my gut tells me is) with Mac and James's relationship and Mac's decision to keep working for the Phoenix. I decided to challenge myself and go with this storyline (which will be an arc over this entire 'season', much like Mac's hunt for his dad was an arc over the entire Season 2). I tried to make James a somewhat more sympathetic character in this compared to the season finale, in the sense that we get to see more of his motivations and his past, and he does try to do a bit better by Mac. However, I'd like to say that he's not exactly meant to be likeable either. I do have some character development planned for him over this 'season', but he's not going to become Father of the Year by the end of this, promise!
I also hope you guys like my interpretation that Matty was testing Mac because A, she considered him to be a completely separate person from his father, and needed to make sure that he was also good, not just lucky, and B, she was also testing his character, because she saw James's many flaws very clearly, and wanted to make sure Mac wasn't heading down the same path. I also hope that you guys understand and like which way I'm going with Riley and Bozer's storylines (which I think is reasonably obvious if you've read my previous works…), and Jack's anger in this 'episode'.
Anyway, here's the 'preview/press release' for the next episode:
3.02, Cards to Throwing Stars. The team heads to Vegas to take down Lockheed Martin employees selling DoD secrets. Mac makes use of his (not so) secret talent, while one of Riley's is revealed. Meanwhile, who is Jack texting?
Any guesses regarding Riley's secret talent, Mac's (not so) secret talent or who Jack is texting? :P
