Spoilers: SG-1: Solitudes, Forever in a Day, Red Sky, Cold Lazarus, Devil You Know, (all very slight)

MacGyver: The Stringer, Passages

Summary: Jack meets someone from Mac's life

Author's Note: Ok, ya'll. Here's another one! Again, I mess with the timing of both shows to fit my own needs, but it works out well enough. Oh, and this is unbeta-ed.

This is a sequel to my first story, Brothers in Arms, it is highly recomended that you read that one first, but this can be read as a stand-alone.

Also, when I talk about Samantha Carter from SG-1 it will be Sam or Carter, when I talk about Sam, Mac's son, it will be spelled SAM in all caps, because it is an acronym. That said, here we go….

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"Two are better than one… for if they fall, one will uplift the other." – Ecclesiastes 4:9-10

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

He pulled into his driveway and paused, reveling in the relief that he was finally home. All he wanted to do was sit down with a nice cold one, maybe catch up on some of the old hockey games he had missed, and just relax. It had been a tough month for him and his team. He slowly opened the door and climbed out, his feet dragging tiredly as he walked up the narrow path to his house.

He was still a little bit sore, but the Doc had finally cleared him to go home. He hated being cooped up in the infirmary and had vociferously insisted that he be allowed to go home because he was "fine". Apparently, the nurses had revolted and had demanded that the doctor kick him out or else they would suffocate him in his sleep or 'accidentally' inject him with too much morphine. He grinned evilly at the thought of Nurses Wylie and Gomez trying to bury him out in the woods on top of Cheyenne Mountain.

He unlocked his door and stepped in, fishing out his cell phone and lazily tossing it and his keys onto the kitchen counter. He headed towards the fridge to grab a beer and something to eat, but realized that after a month spent either on base or on missions off world, there wasn't going to be anything edible in there. He groaned in annoyance before deciding to skip the trip to the store and, instead, lay down in his own bed for a nice long nap. Nothing could or would prevent him from catching some much-needed Z's.

As he traversed the hall, something flashing caught the corner of his eye. He turned to see that his answering machine's red light was indeed blinking, informing him that someone had called him while he was away.

He debated whether or not to save it for later.

He looked longingly down the hall, his bedroom door beckoning him, and then he turned to look at the ominous red blinking light. Once more he turned towards his room before,

"Aw, for cryin' out loud!"

He angrily punched the button on the machine, blaming it for delaying his shut-eye.

"You have six new messages…"

'Wow, only six?' he thought. He was gone for a whole month and only six people called him. He felt slightly miffed, but then realized that the most important calls he would get would have most likely been SGC personnel, and they would have would have known that he was either on base or off world and would have gotten a hold of him accordingly.

"First new message," he mocked sarcastically, timing it perfectly so as to harmony with the machine.

One message was a wrong number and consisted of a "Darn it, she gave me the wrong number, click". He had to smile at that one: poor guy. The next was a telemarketer asking him if he would like to buy life insurance for a new low price! How ironic. The third message got his attention though,

"Hey Jack, guess you're not home," the voice that was identical to his own belonged to his twin brother, MacGyver. They had kept in touch since the last time they had seen each other, not wanting to make the mistake of keeping each other at a distance again. They had both erased each other from their lives to protect the other from their dangerous lifestyle. They had met up again not long ago, when Jack found out about a contract on his brother's life. Afterwards, they had both agreed to call each other at least twice a month as a way to make sure they were both fine and still alive.

MacGyver had found out that Jack was still fighting a war. A war with aliens, and it had him worried that he would wake up one day to a letter for the next of kin, as he was now known as by Jack's commanding officer, General Hammond. Though it made him proud to find out that his older bro had saved the world, multiple times, it also frightened him how many times he got hurt and supposedly died. Jack had joked to him that there was no way he could ever outnumber his friend, Daniel, with the amount of times he had died. That had not gone over so well.

"You're probably on a mission. Just call me when you get back, I just wanted to talk to you about something. Bye, don't forget to call me back, no matter what." Jack furrowed his eyebrows when he heard his younger twin, something was going on, and he needed to find out what. Deleting the message, he came to the next one also from his brother.

"Wow Jack, guess you're still not home. Must be a long mission. Well, when you get this just…" Mac let out a deep sigh that sounded odd through the machine, "I just feel so… I dunno. How do you deal with it bro? Look at you, you're still in the Air Force and going strong, I don't know how you do it. God, I feel so…old," and another sigh, "I…I didn't think that I'd ever say that, but here I am, spilling my guts to a darn machine. You're not even home yet. Bye, I'll call again later. Hope you're okay."

Jack pulled out a chair from under the table and sat down heavily, while scrubbing a hand through his hair and down his face. He knew exactly how Mac felt, hell, he was feeling it now. It seemed to him, like his brother had just realized that the ole body wasn't quite what it used to be.

He skipped over the next message, it being a reminder for a dentist's appointment for a time he had already missed, and asking to reschedule, but the following one was another one from his brother.

"Come on, Jack, where the hell are you? I know you're not dead, I would have gotten a call, so you're probably really busy," his tone sounded much lighter than it had previously-which was oddly surprising, "Jack, I gotta tell you something, but I want to do it face to face. I…I," then a slight laugh, "Geese Jack, it's amazing, I…just come see us, we'll be at the cabin until the beginning of next month," Jack heard a door closing in the background and several drawers opening and closing, then Mac's voice as if he was talking to someone else, "No not there, hold on I'll help ya in a sec. Jack, listen, I gotta go, but I hope you get this message in time. Later."

Beep, "End of messages."

'Wow,' Jack thought, he didn't know what to make of the last one. What was with the "us"? Did Mac find somebody? Naw, he had some commitment issues, he was a free spirit and to be tied down he would have had to fall head over heels in love between the two last calls he made. Impossible. So then, who was it? What happened?

Jack picked up the phone and dialed the General to ask for some downtime. Technically he was on medical leave, but he had a feeling that he should request a little bit more time,

"Sure thing son, take as long as you need, god knows that you deserve it right now."

He booked a flight that left in four hours. There was still room on it, apparently not a lot of people wanted to travel to Minnesota in the dead of winter. Afterwards he went to his room, grabbing a bag from the hall closet and threw in some clothes.

Packing didn't take too long; he wasn't taking that much because he already had some clothes that he left at the cabin, besides Mac would have some stuff he could borrow if he needed it.

He paused before leaving his room, staring at the inviting bed; the much needed rest now not an option. He could sleep on the plane, he reasoned. Going over a mental checklist to make sure he wouldn't forget anything, he realized that he had forgotten to call his brother back. He dropped his bag by the door and picked up the phone. He dialed the cabin, but no one picked up and he didn't leave a message. 'After all,' he figured, 'I'm going to be there soon anyway. I'll surprise him.'

As he passed the kitchen counter on the way out, he saw his service weapon lying on the counter. He stopped. Should he take it along? He knew that Mac despised guns, but he always felt naked without one. He picked it up and turned it thoughtfully in his hands, fingers sliding over the familiar curves and corners. Jack knew his brother's penchant for trouble and decided that it was better to be prepared. He zipped open the bag and hid it between two pairs of pants. He just hoped that he wouldn't have to see it again this trip.

Though his flight was practically empty, the airport sure wasn't. It was a bustle of people; moms yelling after children to not wander off, gaggles of teenagers squawking and standing directly in the middle of the corridor, impeding the flow of traffic, business men, their attention consumed by their gizmo electronics, unable to be free from the constrains of work, families running to catch their next flight. He picked up his boarding pass at the ticket counter and checked his bag, since it did contain a firearm, one of the banned from flight objects, after waiting patiently in line. He didn't mind the wait because it gave him a chance to think. But when he looked at his watch, he realized that he had a little over half an hour before boarding started. He glanced at the long line for security and shook his head. There was no possible way he would get through that in time for his flight.

He passed the end of the line for passengers and immediately went to the line for airport personnel and pilots. He grinned at the looks some of the people in line were giving him, not worried one bit. The Goa'uld had given him worse.

He handed his boarding pass and military ID to the guard, the privileges of rank. The guard gave him a weird look at seeing his face, but Jack just ignored it. He stepped through the metal detector, and as he knew it would, the machine went off. He sighed, already anticipating the more thorough search with the wand. As the second guard approached him, he pulled up the pant leg on his right knee. The man gave him a questioning look,

"Three screws and a couple wires and plates in this leg," he said, pointing to the surgical scar. This was why he much preferred to take military flights rather than commercial. That one was a souvenir from the parachuting accident a long time ago.

"Sir, that may be, but we still have to check you,"

"Yeah, I know."

After finding nothing, the thorough guards believed his story and let him through.

As he walked down the halls towards his gate, he noticed people giving him strange looks and avoiding him, children pointed and stared, and men winced. He didn't know what they found so entertaining, and didn't care. He was too tired to. He handed his ticket to the stewardess at the counter and quickly found his seat. He was lucky to not have anyone sit beside him, and took the opportunity to spread out and rest. He was asleep before the plane took off.

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Author's Note: Finally the first chapter of this sequel is up. I had been waiting until life slowed down a bit more so that I would have more time for writing so I could get these chapters out quicker, but I realized that after a few months went by, ya'll had waited long enough. So, my loyal readers, this is the long awaited sequel! Please enjoy and review!!